The abandoned daughter of the Lu family turns around and marries a celibate tycoon.

The phone slipped from my fingertips.

Gu Yanshen leaned back onto the sofa, his eyes closed, his breathing becoming heavy and hot in an instant.

It's done! Song Zhihe's heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of elation and tension. She held her breath, staring intently at him—no movement, only her unusually hot breath raging in the quiet room, proving that the drug was binding his reason like a poisonous vine.

She slid silently to the door and locked it.

With a click, the world was shut down.

A miniature camera silently points at the sofa. A red light flashes faintly, and it greedily begins recording.

She turned around, took a deep breath, suppressed the excited trembling in her fingertips, and walked back to his side.

When her fingers touched the side of his neck, the temperature she felt made her fingertips go numb—it wasn't normal body temperature, but the scorching heat emanating from the medicine.

His tie was loosened and lay limply to the side.

One shirt button, two buttons... As the fabric opened, the man's well-defined chest and taut abdominal muscles were exposed in the dim light.

Sweat was seeping wildly from beneath his taut skin, meandering between the deep lines of his muscles and disappearing into his waistband. His body convulsed uncontrollably, every muscle bulging and bulging, sweat soaking the edges of his shirt and outlining a silhouette full of explosive power and extreme restraint.

Song Zhihe's breathing became erratic, a mixture of triumphant excitement and a twisted infatuation.

She stretched out her fingers, painted with bright red nail polish, and slowly probed downwards along his sweaty V-line, her target clear—the metal belt buckle.

The moment your fingertips are about to touch!

Gu Yanshen suddenly opened his eyes!

Those eyes!

His eyes were bloodshot and bulging with a raging fire, a desire forcibly ignited by drugs that threatened to destroy everything, and a chilling, almost violent clarity of mind!

Veins bulged on his forehead, and large beads of sweat rolled down, hitting the carpet. He was as taut as a bowstring stretched to its limit, about to snap at any moment, emitting a destructive hum.

"Song—Zhi—He—!" A suppressed roar burst from the depths of his throat, hoarse and broken. He didn't grab her, but instead slammed his fist hard against the hard mahogany coffee table beside him!

"Bang--!"

With a loud crash, the expensive solid wood tabletop cracked, and the crystal ashtray on it trembled and bounced up before crashing down again.

Song Zhihe was so frightened that she screamed and staggered backward, falling to the ground.

Gu Yanshen braced himself against the cracked tabletop, his arm muscles trembling violently from the extreme force. He swayed and used all his strength to stand up.

He closed his eyes, suddenly lowered his head, and bit his lower lip hard until it bled!

A sharp sting and a strong taste of blood exploded in his mouth, temporarily suppressing the heat and chaos that threatened to engulf him.

He was breathing heavily, sweat pouring down his face, but his trembling hand rose with unusual determination as he fumbled to button up his open shirt, one button at a time.

The movements were slow, each touch of the fingertips to the button felt incredibly heavy, a fierce battle against one's own instincts and the effects of the drug.

As the last button was fastened, he slowly turned his head.

Those eyes, burning with hellfire yet strangely retaining a cold core, were fixed on Song Zhihe, who was trembling on the ground.

A thunderclap, without warning, shattered his chaotic and fiery mind!

Five years ago... that broken night filled with guilt and self-doubt... those blurry, restless, uncontrollable fragments... this familiar yet strange, forcibly ignited flame within me...

All the clues, at this moment, came together and began to gnaw at his heart!

His pupils suddenly shrank to pinpoints.

"So...that's how it is." His voice was so low it was almost inaudible, yet it was like a knife chilled to the bone, scraping through the air, carrying a devastating calm after a sudden realization. "Five years ago...that 'accident' that burdened me with shackles..."

He took a step forward. His body staggered slightly from resisting the effects of the drug, but his steps were heavy as iron, carrying an aura that could crush everything, and a huge shadow completely engulfed Song Zhihe.

He leaned down, his hot breath spraying onto her pale face, which instantly made her feel as if she had fallen into an ice cave, her blood freezing.

"From beginning to end...it was all a trap you meticulously woven, wasn't it?" His voice was hoarse, every word dripping with venom and rage. "Using this filthy, despicable drug...to manipulate my body, to stage a 'drunk out of control' drama? And I...like a complete fool, feeling guilty, compromising, and..."

He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing violently, his eyes burning even more intensely red—a purgatory of fury and the effects of the drug.

Song Zhihe's lips trembled as she tried to deny it, but no sound came out; only boundless fear gripped her.

Seeing her like this, Gu Yanshen's last shred of hope was completely shattered. A wave of nausea, more ferocious and intense than the effects of the drug in his body, surged up and rushed straight to his throat.

He was actually... framed twice by her using the same method!

The first time, he even imprisoned himself on this issue!

Absurd! Disgraceful! Outrageous!

Several emotions surged and clashed within him like magma, threatening to tear him apart. He abruptly straightened up, staggered towards the ice bucket beside him, grabbed the half-melted ice cubes, and smashed them, along with the icy water, against his head and face!

"Splash—!"

A bone-chilling cold swept over him instantly, briefly suppressing his boiling blood and burning nerves.

He shook his soaked black hair, water droplets and sweat splashing everywhere, but his eyes were even sharper and more terrifying than before, like a bloodstained blade drawn from its sheath.

He stopped looking at Song Zhihe, who was lying on the ground like a pile of mud, and fixed his gaze on the camera that was still flashing and recording everything ugly.

One step, two steps... He walked over, ripped it off, and held it in his palm, the metal casing almost deformed from his grip.

"You like to keep records?" He smirked, revealing a chilling, almost cruel smile, his voice trembling slightly from suppressed emotion. "Then watch closely... how you, step by step, sent yourself into hell."

He forced the camera lens towards Song Zhihe, who lay on the ground, pale and trembling. The red light continued to flash regularly, coldly recording her most unbearable and desperate moment.

Then, he turned around abruptly, staggering but resolutely pulling open the locked door.

The blinding white light from the corridor surged in, clearly illuminating his tall, slightly trembling back, soaked with sweat and ice water.

This time,

He didn't turn around.