Knock, knock, knock.
The sound of knocking thrice, yet no response came from within.
Luo Qinghe stood at the doorway, "It's me."
After she spoke, someone inside finally responded, though notably impatient, "What is it?"
The door opened, and Luo Changde stood disheveled, his neck and chest covered with scratches from a woman's nails.
Luo Qinghe's expression instantly turned cold. She entered with her secretary and slammed the door forcefully, "You still ask me what it is, Luo Changde? Look at the mess you've made."
Luo Changde, just over fifty, had swollen eyes that made him look older. Due to his physical disability, he had become even more unrestrained in his antics over the years.
He sneered, "It's just a woman."
Just a woman?
Hmph, just a woman who had left him childless and without descendants.
Luo Qinghe scanned the room; a pen lay on the floor, its tip bloody. The woman on the bed lay motionless, her legs spread, still bleeding from down below.