FENG LANG
My nostrils were clogged.
My throat was parched.
My body felt like it'd been run over multiple times by a container truck.
That bastard, Yichen hadn't answered my calls or replied to any of my multiple texts in a week.
Must be nice spending fucking quality time with that fucking A-Gen Omega who looked like fucking Santa Claus with that white patch of hair on his head.
Rage boiled beneath my skin, the room suddenly growing hotter from the pheromones that escaped my control.
I knew he was the reason why I was in this state. If what Yichen said the first time this happened was right, then it meant that my current suffering was all because of that fucker.
What was he even doing in Yichen's apartment?
Were they living together now?
Was that why Yichen hadn't returned home in a week?
Playing house with my enemy without so much as a warning.
