But none of it reached him.
To Shen Xiao, it felt like dawn had never co.
He paused by a tall window, the sheer white curtains billowing slightly in the morning breeze. His reflection stared back at him, a powerful, immaculately dressed man with eyes so dark and empty that even the light could not touch them.
He clenched his jaw tightly, the muscles along his chiseled face ticking as his hands curled into fists at his sides.
"Why... why is everything I touch turning to ashes?"
The thought pulsed through his veins like ice.
For a brief second, his gaze flickered down the corridor towards the master bedroom door, where Yueyao lay unconscious behind layers of locked darkness.
Then, without another glance, he turned and walked away, his polished shoes clicking softly against the marble as he disappeared down the silent, sunlit hall.
Outside, the city roared to life with morning traffic, but inside the mansion, only a suffocating stillness remained.
And as he walked towards the guest room at the far end of the hall, his broad back straight and imposing beneath the golden morning light, it felt as though dawn had brought no warmth with it... only the cold, grim promise of another endless day.
Shen Xiao stepped into the guest room and closed the door quietly behind him.
He stood there for a mont, unmoving, his tall fra tense and rigid as his eyes stared blankly at the far wall.
His white shirt was sared faintly with dried blood from where her nails had raked his neck. The dark strands of his hair fell ssily across his forehead, casting shadows over his unreadable eyes.
Slowly, he loosened his tie with one hand, the silk slipping through his fingers soundlessly. He exhaled shakily, his broad shoulders lifting and falling with the force of the breath.
"Why did it co to this...?"
Her hysterical sobs still rang in his ears.
"Let go... I don’t want you... please... just let go..."
The words tore through him like blades, leaving behind an ache that throbbed deep in his chest. His jaw clenched so tightly the muscles ticked along the sharp line of his cheekbones.
The guest room was quiet, dimly lit by thin streaks of golden light slipping through partially drawn curtains. The air slled faintly of sandalwood and clean linen, cold and impersonal compared to the warmth of the master suite.
Shen Xiao sat on the edge of the wide guest bed, elbows resting on his knees, his large hands clasped loosely between them. His usually pristine white shirt was wrinkled, stained with faint sars of dried blood from the scratches she had left along his throat. Dark stubble shadowed his sharp jawline, and deep grooves carved themselves beneath his obsidian eyes, hollow with exhaustion.
The words she had scread at him echoed relentlessly in his mind, tearing through him like blades, leaving behind an ache that throbbed deep in his chest. His jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles ticked along the sharp line of his cheekbones.
Slowly, he raised a hand and pressed his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose, trying to quell the pounding headache blooming behind his eyes.
After a long mont, he exhaled shakily and leaned back against the headboard, staring up at the plain white ceiling.
"What am I doing to you... What am I doing to myself...?" he whispered, his deep voice rough and strained.
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