On the other side of the village, Lin Xuanyu panted as he ran. The wild sprint had long since collapsed into something heavier and less coordinated. His lungs burned. Each breath arrived late and left too quickly. Still he kept moving, driven by the thin, stubborn hope that Gu Chengze would somehow magically appear and fix the entire afternoon back into the shape he preferred and favored.
Tears tracked down his face. Just you all wait, he seethed inwardly. The usual harmless, obedient expression had cracked wide open; what sat underneath was sharp, furious, and entirely uninterested in looking pitiful for an audience that was not present.
He had bitten his lip hard enough that blood had begun to seep out, a thin bright line against porcelain skin. I'll make them pay. Tenfold. No—a hundredfold. The vow repeated itself with every uneven step, feeding on the grievances he refused to set down.
He did not see the large rock in the path.
