Unexpected Slap!

The door creaked open, revealing a woman standing with impeccable grace, her neat appearance radiating poise. She bowed slightly, offering a polite smile, her voice soft but clear. "Good morning, sir. Breakfast will be served at 7:30 in the hall on the third floor. I hope you can join us before then."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and moved swiftly down the hall, repeating her message to the other doors with the same calm demeanor.

Jiang Yanxu closed the door, his fingers grazing the cool surface for a moment, before he turned and walked toward the bed. Ye Xinren was already there, wrapped in the blanket, his eyes tracing every movement Jiang Yanxu made. Without a word, Jiang Yanxu sat next to him, his back turned, deliberately avoiding any contact. He reached for the cigarette on the bedside table, bringing it to his lips, the tip glowing in the dim light of the room.

The silence between them felt heavy, the tension palpable, as Jiang Yanxu puffed lazily on the cigarette, unfazed by Ye Xinren's quiet stare. The young man's eyes burned with unspoken frustration, his chest tightening with a sense of abandonment.

Jiang Yanxu's actions spoke volumes—he was indifferent, his attention far from Ye Xinren. The passionate moments from earlier felt like a distant memory, lost in the haze of the cigarette smoke that lingered in the air. Ye Xinren, still aching from the intensity of their earlier encounter, felt the sting of neglect like a cold slap to his heart.

His desire, both physical and emotional, was met with only a hollow silence. He could feel the emptiness growing inside him, the man he had once looked to for everything now a mere shadow of his former self.

Unable to hold back any longer, Ye Xinren shifted his weight and lunged toward Jiang Yanxu, his arms wrapping around the man's broad shoulders from behind. He kissed the nape of Jiang Yanxu's neck, his lips brushing the skin gently, before he nipped at the man's earlobe, hoping to ignite some spark, some trace of the man who had once set his body aflame.

But Jiang Yanxu didn't respond. His face remained impassive, his fingers loosely holding the cigarette as though nothing had changed.

Frustration built within Ye Xinren, anger and hurt swirling in his chest like a storm. He pulled back, his voice sharp, tinged with bitterness. "Breakfast is more important than me, isn't it? More important than what's happening between us right now."

Jiang Yanxu's gaze flickered briefly, his annoyance hidden behind a calm exterior. He took another slow drag from his cigarette before flicking the ash into the tray. His voice was low, almost disinterested. "You should get ready. We're going down for breakfast. No time for this."

Ye Xinren's face flushed with a mix of indignation and vulnerability. He slumped back against the bed, his arms folding tightly across his chest, as he glared at Jiang Yanxu's back. "I feel so ... neglected. Like I don't matter to you anymore. After everything, is this how you treat me? Just ... toss me aside?"

There was a long, painful silence before Jiang Yanxu spoke, his tone a forced gentleness that only grated on Ye Xinren's already frayed nerves. "Put on your clothes. We'll talk after breakfast."

Ye Xinren's heart twisted. He had expected more—expected something. Instead, he was met with indifference. His voice cracked, despite his best efforts to hold it steady. "Is that all you can say? You don't even care, do you? It's like I'm just some inconvenience to you now."

He turned his face away, but the hurt in his eyes was unmistakable. Tears, unbidden, welled up in his eyes, his emotions raw and exposed. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but all that came out was a strangled sob.

Jiang Yanxu's expression hardened as he turned slightly, sensing the change in the atmosphere. His eyes flicked toward Ye Xinren, a flicker of something almost imperceptible passing through them. But before he could speak, the silence was shattered by the unmistakable sound of a slap.

Ye Xinren's palm collided with Jiang Yanxu's cheek, the impact sharp and sudden. The sound echoed in the room, lingering in the air like the aftermath of a thunderclap.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Jiang Yanxu's face burned with the sting of the slap, his mind reeling as he processed the sudden aggression. His eyes widened in shock, a rare vulnerability flickering across his usually controlled features.

The pain from the slap was both physical and emotional, an unexpected reminder of the fragile boundaries that existed between them. Ye Xinren's hand still hovered in the air, trembling slightly from the force of his own action. His chest heaved with anger and regret, the slap having erupted from a place of deep frustration.

Jiang Yanxu looked at Ye Xinren, his eyes hardening with barely contained fury. The air in the room was thick with tension, the weight of the moment crushing both of them.

Despite the anger welling up inside him, Jiang Yanxu's mind was still clear enough to recognize that retaliating would only escalate the situation further. With a deep breath, he suppressed the urge to lash out, his jaw tightening as he stood abruptly.

Without a word, he turned on his heel and walked toward the door, his movements stiff and deliberate. Before he left, he paused, his gaze lingering on Ye Xinren for a moment longer than necessary. His voice, cold and composed, cut through the silence. "Don't think this changes anything. I'll be downstairs."

With a sharp slam, the door closed behind him, leaving Ye Xinren alone in the room, his heart heavy with guilt and confusion. The echo of his own slap reverberated in his ears, and for a moment, he questioned everything—his actions, his feelings, and the relationship they had built.

As the quiet settled in, Ye Xinren sat motionless, his face buried in his hands. He wasn't sure if he regretted what he'd done or if it was the only thing that had made him feel heard.

The seconds ticked by slowly, and with a heavy sigh, Ye Xinren got out of bed. He dressed quickly, his mind racing as he prepared to find Jiang Yanxu. His heart ached with the need to fix things—to apologize, to somehow make things right before they spiraled any further.