Zhāo Yàn poured another amber-colored pool of whiskey into his glass, the ice clinking with a sound that grated on his nerves. He was sitting in his office, the city lights below looking like a scattered pile of cold diamonds.
He didn't know what was wrong with him. Why the hell had he suggested a "family outing"? He was a venture capitalist, a man who survived on calculated risks and ruthless acquisitions, not playdates in the park with a scholar and a walking block of ice.
That was his curse, though. Whenever things got too real, whenever the air got too thick with emotions he didn't want to name, he hid behind a smirk and a joke. It was easier to be the jester than the man whose heart was currently being shredded by memories of a forest he had never stepped foot in.
"Boss? You've been staring at that glass for twenty minutes."
His assistant, Jun Qing, stood by the door, looking concerned. Zhāo Yàn didn't even look up. He just watched the way the amber liquid caught the light.
