The night had deepened.
A chill seeped through the window cracks, thread by thread, yet it was nothing compared to the coldness in one's heart.
In the study, only a dim, vintage desk lamp cast its faint glow on the fine rosewood desk.
The weak light illuminated Lin Jianguo's disheveled appearance and the flush of anger stained by alcohol, casting a massive, distorted shadow behind him.
After coming here alone, he had already downed half a bottle of strong liquor.
The fiery liquid burned like a trail of flames from his throat down to his stomach, yet this intense physical sensation did nothing to quell the raging, twisted fire inside him.
Far from numbing his nerves, the alcohol acted like a catalyst, amplifying the desires he had suppressed all day and his inexplicable fury several times over.
Lin Jianguo lifted his heavy head, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the antique clock on the wall. The hour hand had already pointed to eleven.
By this time, Wang Xiulan should have returned to her room and settled at her dressing table, meticulously performing her decades-long, refined bedtime routine.
Wang Xiulan…
As the familiar name rolled over his tongue, it stirred not a trace of tenderness.
After more than twenty years of marriage, their intimate life had long dried up like the Sahara Desert. The so-called "fulfilling of obligations" felt more like an ancient tale from the last century.
Lin Jianguo strained to recall but could not remember the last time he had used the very flesh that now burned with desire for another man's wife to enter Wang Xiulan's familiar body. It felt like an event from another era.
But tonight was different.
The raging fire in his lower belly, ignited by Su Yu, left him restless and agitated.
He felt he had to do something!
He would conquer his wife, conquer Wang Xiulan!
In the most primal, brutal way, he would make her pay for her actions toward their son today!
He would make her understand who the true master of this household was!
Of course, deep down, Lin Jianguo knew clearly that all of this was merely an excuse.
What he truly craved was to vent the filthy desires that had been thoroughly provoked by his young, seductive, and forward daughter-in-law, Su Yu.
Thus, reeking of alcohol and filled with a determined resolve, Lin Jianguo staggered to his feet, left the study, and pushed open the door to the master bedroom.
His movements were rough and unapologetic.
Inside the bedroom, Wang Xiulan sat quietly at her dressing table, removing her makeup.
She had her back to the door, wearing a dark green silk slip nightgown.
The expensive fabric, shimmering like flowing emerald water under the light, clung tightly to her well-maintained, full, and proportionate figure, outlining the uniquely mature, rounded, and graceful S-curve of a woman.
The soft overhead light spilled over her exposed shoulders and smooth back, her skin still firm and glossy, glowing with the warm luster of ivory, exuding a scent that mingled high-end skincare products with her own natural fragrance.
Hearing the door open, Wang Xiulan did not turn around. Instead, through the large, intricately carved mirror in front of her, she cast a cold, sidelong glance at the man in the doorway.
Her gaze held no surprise, no fear—only the contempt and disgust one might reserve for a buzzing, irritating fly.
That look once again plucked at the string of reason in Lin Jianguo's mind.
Bang!
In the next instant, he slammed the heavy solid wood door shut with a violent backward swing, followed by the sharp click of the lock.
The crisp sound of the bolt echoed in the quiet bedroom, like a battle horn filled with brutality.
Lin Jianguo's eyes were bloodshot and terrifying as he strode toward Wang Xiulan. His expensive custom-made leather shoes made dull, oppressive thuds against the polished floor.
"What's with that look?" he rasped hoarsely, grabbing her right wrist—the one holding the makeup removal pad.
His palm was rough and scorching hot, the force so great it felt as though he might crush her slender wrist bone.
Wang Xiulan winced in pain, her delicate brows furrowing slightly, yet her expression remained as icy as ever.
She tried to shake her hand free but couldn't break his grip, so she gave up the futile struggle and said coldly, "Let go of me. You're drunk."
"I'm not drunk! I'm perfectly sober!"
The alcohol had inflated Lin Jianguo's courage to its peak, and his wife's cold response only stoked his fury.
He yanked Wang Xiulan roughly from her stool, forcing her to face him.
They were so close that she could smell the strong scent of alcohol on his breath.
"Wang Xiulan, don't forget—I'm your husband! The way you were carrying on with our son today—what kind of behavior is that? Have you no shame?"
"You dare talk to me about shame?" Wang Xiulan finally laughed. Her smile was like an ice flower blooming suddenly in the depths of winter—beautiful, yet utterly devoid of warmth.
"You—!"
Her attitude made Lin Jianguo feel as though he had thrown a full-force punch into a pile of cotton—frustratingly ineffective, only fueling the fire of his rage even more.
All his reason was incinerated in that moment.
Without another word, Lin Jianguo shoved Wang Xiulan backward onto the soft, oversized European-style bed behind her.
Her mature, voluptuous body bounced slightly on the thick mattress, and the hem of her dark green nightgown rode up from the sudden movement, revealing the elegant curve of her thighs encased in flesh-colored stockings.
Before she could sit up, Lin Jianguo pounced on her like a starved wolf driven mad by hunger, pinning her down with his heavy body so she couldn't move.
His already thick, burning, and vein-pulsating manhood—swollen from the alcohol, rage, and lewd fantasies about his daughter-in-law—pressed fiercely against the deepest part of her thighs, separated only by two thin layers of fabric.
Its staggering size and scorching heat were the only things he could use now to prove his masculine dominance.
"Wang Xiulan, you're my wife—and tonight, you're going to do your duty!" Lin Jianguo roared, his hands beginning to tear violently at the expensive silk nightgown she wore.
Rip—
The delicate silk tore open, revealing the matching delicate lace bra underneath and the plump, snow-white upper part of her thighs, tightly sheathed in flesh-colored stockings.
The dark green lace bra lifted Wang Xiulan's D-cup breasts—as full and magnificent as Su Yu's, but even more mature and alluring from childbirth and the passage of time—pushing them upward and squeezing them into a deep cleavage that could drive any man wild.
Yet, in the face of Lin Jianguo's near-violent aggression, Wang Xiulan displayed an extraordinary calmness.
She did not scream, did not cry out, not even offering a token struggle.
She lay there quietly, allowing her husband to tear at her clothes, letting his rigid member thrust wildly against her body, as if the one being violated was not her, but a soulless doll.
Lin Jianguo panted heavily, his gaze falling upon the woman beneath him.
He noticed that Wang Xiulan was using that look again—the one that made him feel like a pile of repulsive garbage—staring intently at him.
Just as Lin Jianguo was about to erupt again, intending to shatter this humiliating calm with even rougher actions, Wang Xiulan parted her crimson lips and spoke in a tone so calm it was almost cruel, her words crystal clear:
"Lin Jianguo, you disgust me."
This sentence was more devastating than any scream or resistance.
All of Lin Jianguo's movements froze in the previous second.
It felt as if all the blood in his body had been completely frozen by Wang Xiulan's words and gaze in that very moment.
And the rigid, vein-pulsating member between his legs, which had been hardened by desire, now softened at an alarming speed, pitifully deflating.
At that moment, Lin Jianguo resembled a defeated rooster, clumsily climbing off Wang Xiulan's body.
He slumped onto the carpet beside the bed, burying his head in his hands, his body as limp as a pile of mud, as if all his bones had been pulled out in an instant.
Seeing this, Wang Xiulan slowly sat up.
She made no attempt to adjust her torn nightgown, allowing the soft, bra-clad mounds of her chest and her pale, sheer-stocking-clad thighs to remain exposed to the air.
This vivid, sensual sight, however, failed to stir even a hint of desire in Lin Jianguo, leaving him only with an overwhelming sense of humiliation.
Looking back many years, they had once shared love.
But at some point, the thief named time had quietly changed them.
Wang Xiulan looked at her husband on the floor as if observing a clown who had just performed a clumsy act, her eyes even revealing a hint of pity.
And this pity wounded him more deeply than contempt ever could.
"Get out."
After coldly uttering these three words, she no longer looked at him, as if another glance would dirty her eyes.
She gracefully stepped off the bed, barefoot, and walked across the soft carpet on the other side, entering a small walk-in closet nearby, her back resolute.
Lin Jianguo left the master bedroom in a daze.
The door closed softly behind him, as if drawing a final note to his failed marriage and the masculinity shattered by his wife.
Meanwhile, in a bedroom on the second floor, the scene was entirely different.
Although the soundproofing of the house was relatively good, Lin Zhe and Su Yu still keenly picked up on the commotion coming from the master bedroom downstairs.
First, the heavy sound of the door slamming shut, followed by the muffled yet clearly audible roar of Lin Jianguo, Lin Zhe's father.
Lin Zhe's heart leaped into his throat, and he glanced at Su Yu with concern.
But Su Yu appeared unusually excited.
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