His steps were heavy, thudding dully on the flagstones. Each one felt like it landed on his own heart.
He never looked back or responded to anyone's attempts to reason with him, leaving only the sight of his back, tense with suppressed rage.
Early the next morning, Ling Zhiwei was yanked off the floor and dragged into the living room before he'd even opened his eyes.
He had spent the night meditating and had fallen asleep right on the cushion in the training room, still fully clothed and with his hair slightly disheveled.
The entire family was there, all seated in perfect order. The atmosphere was as tense as a criminal interrogation.
The elders wore varied expressions: some were worried, some were angry, and others simply watched in silence.
Steam rose from the teacups on the coffee table, yet no one touched them.
Everyone was waiting to see what would happen next.
