The conversation ended unpleasantly, with Di Ruihe practically slamming the door shut. Di Mingjue's warning only fueled his inner desires.
Leaving the Di residence, Di Ruihe, driven by greed, went to Xu Zehong's rented room.
He waited from afternoon until late night. Xu Zehong, carrying a bottle of wine, stumbled into the alley entrance. He leaned against the front of a luxury car.
His cheek pressed against the cold car mirror, he mumbled incoherently, "What, no one?"
His face against the car window, he peered into the dark interior.
He spun around, leaning against the car, and kicked a tire forcefully. The inflated tire felt surprisingly hard, and he felt pain in his toes even through his shoes.
"So what if you're rich! Even a damn tire is bullying me!" Xu Zehong raised his wine bottle and smashed it onto the car roof.
With a loud crash, the car's alarm activated.
The piercing siren jolted Xu Zehong out of his drunken stupor. He blinked, focusing on the license plate.
He's here?
Xu Zehong looked up at the window of the apartment he lived in. The surrounding windows glowed with light, but his was completely dark, devoid of any illumination.
It felt as if a pair of eyes were watching him. He stood still, turning in a circle, but saw no one else in the darkness.
Fearing a repeat of the previous kidnapping incident, Xu Zehong quickly ran into the abandoned alley.
His feet pounded on the steps, the sound echoing through the entire building as his soles met the stairs.
"You're back?"
As the door opened, a pair of eyes gleamed in the darkness.
"Who?" Xu Zehong stood at the doorway, afraid to move closer.
The light in the room was turned on, revealing Di Ruihe like a hungry beast awaiting its prey.
"Why did you suddenly come over? I thought..." Xu Zehong trailed off, quickly catching himself.
"Thought what?"
"Thought a thief broke in."
Hurriedly covering up, Xu Zehong entered the room, reeking of alcohol.
Di Ruihe was impeccably dressed in a suit, every strand of his hair exuding an air of nobility, creating a stark contrast with the dilapidated state of the room's furnishings, making him seem out of place.
"Come to the Di residence tomorrow," Di Ruihe said.
"It's only been two days, the first dose of the medicine shouldn't be finished yet," Xu Zehong voiced his confusion.
It was a command, not a question. Di Ruihe kicked a stool, subtly reminding the other man of his place.
Xu Zehong, timid and easily intimidated, immediately nodded in agreement after seeing the stool fall to the ground.
Before leaving, Di Ruihe pressed a packet of powder into his hand and whispered in his ear. In that instant, Xu Zehong became more sober than he had been before drinking.
The sound of car tires rolling echoed from downstairs. After peeking out the window to ensure he had left, Xu Zehong opened the packet to examine its contents.
The next day.
As it was time for work, Di Mingjue remained seated on the sofa, unmoving.
The family had a rare breakfast together, and the old lady's mood improved, prompting her to eat an extra bowl of rice.
"Aren't you going to the company today?" the old lady asked, looking at Di Mingjue, who was reading the morning paper across from her.
Di Ruihe, who was preparing to go upstairs, heard this and stopped, tilting his head to listen.
His voice was low and his words were indistinct. Di Ruihe turned, leaning against the wall and looking at Di Mingjue on the sofa through a gap.
Di Mingjue shifted the direction of the newspaper in his hands and looked up towards the staircase.
Unsure if he had been seen, Di Ruihe walked out uncomfortably.
Hearing the footsteps, the old lady turned and asked, "Aren't you going to work today either?"
He isn't?
Confused by the old lady's question, Di Ruihe looked at Di Mingjue.
Before his confusion could be resolved, a servant led Xu Zehong in.
Having been here before, the servant recognized his identity. Xu Zehong informed the servant at the door that Di Ruihe had invited him, and he was allowed to enter without hindrance.
Upon entering the front hall, he saw Di Mingjue on the sofa, his heart pounding. His legs felt awkward, unsure of whom to approach first.