Eight thirty in the evening.
Wen Xueli had brought another boy home. He was the third boyfriend she'd had during this time.
"Louies is staying here tonight. You don't mind, do you?"
Pages rustled as a book was turned, and the leather sofa sank under someone's weight.
With a soft thud, a rose-shaped bookmark slipped from between the pages and fell to the floor without warning.
Ying Yulan had pale, delicate eyelids and long, narrow eyes, with a pair of cold, alluring peach-blossom eyes. A chill glinted in his dark gaze, but he didn't spare Wen Xueli even a glance.
"Get out. If you're going to fool around, do it somewhere else."
"Why should I be the one to leave?"
The things on the coffee table were smashed to pieces. The fresh flowers, still covered in dew just moments ago, were instantly mixed into the rotting mud. "My dad paid for half this house, too. If you can't stand it, then you can move out!"
The book in his hand flew to one side.
Ying Yulan was tall and slender. He strode toward Wen Xueli.
"You're going to let him sleep in the bed we shared?"
He gripped her chin and leaned down with a cold laugh.
It sounded as though he was speaking to the boy she'd brought home, but every word went straight to Wen Xueli's ears alone:
"Tell me, do these boyfriends of yours know we've slept together?"
*
Childhood sweethearts who once loved each other
But their relationship fell apart, and neither has moved on
Reader's Guide:
Neither of them is exactly normal.
Expect all the classic melodramatic tropes, including false accusations and arguments.
Theme: A cold fir tree.
