In the Grip of Alcohol

Mu Tianyang had some social engagements, so Wanqing dined alone. It was the first time in a long while she found herself eating by herself in this house, and the lightness of the moment made her feel a rare sense of ease. Even the food seemed to taste more exquisite in its solitude.

Zhangma, noticing the change, asked, "Miss, you're eating more than usual tonight?"

Typically, Wanqing would eat only a single bowl of rice, but tonight she had finished two.

"Of course," she replied, a slight edge to her tone. With Mu Tianyang, every meal was consumed with apprehension, her stomach always knotted, never allowing for true enjoyment of the food. Who could savor a meal when their appetite was so tightly bound by tension?

After dinner, she retreated to the study to continue her homework. When Mu Tianyang was present, she could never focus. Her thoughts were always clouded by a constant sense of fear, as though she were prey to a predator. The memory of his touch—on the bed, in the closet, the bathroom, even on the living room sofa—haunted her. To her, he was someone who disregarded boundaries, unaware of, or indifferent to, the sanctity of space and occasion. Who knew what he would do in the study?

The homework piled up endlessly, but with him nearby, she couldn't concentrate. What should've taken her an hour dragged into two or more. Yet, by eleven o'clock, he would unceremoniously demand she go to bed, no matter how much work remained.

It had become a conditioned reflex: as soon as he shut down his computer, she packed up her books and followed him to the bedroom.

She silently wished that he would stay out long enough tonight to spare her from his return.

Her thoughts soon dissolved into the sea of equations before her. The door opened, but she was too absorbed to notice immediately. Only when the scent of alcohol hit her senses did she look up, startled.

A black suit fell onto her desk with a soft thud. She froze, her breath catching, before she looked up and saw Mu Tianyang, his hair slightly disheveled.

He appeared drunk...

"What time is it?" His voice was thick with the scent of liquor as he leaned on the desk, his presence enveloping her like a storm.

Wanqing, struggling to steady herself, checked her watch, trying to avoid his gaze.

Before she could answer, he yanked her up. "Why aren't you wearing the watch I gave you?" His voice boomed.

Wanqing flinched, her heart racing. "I told you... it's not appropriate to wear it to school."

"How dare you talk back?" His fury flared, and before she could react, he pushed her harshly against the table, swiftly tearing the electronic watch from her wrist. Holding it before her face, he demanded, "What time is it?"

"Eleven... eleven thirty…" she stammered, her voice trembling.

With a crash, he flung the watch to the floor and grabbed a fistful of her hair. "You dare disobey me when I'm not around?"

The sharp pain shot through her, and she cried out, tears spilling from her eyes. "I didn't mean it… I was just doing my homework… I didn't notice…"

He softened his grip and leaned down, his lips near her ear. "Well, how should I punish you now?"

Wanqing's body trembled, every nerve alight with fear as she felt his hands rove over her. She could already guess his intentions.

"You... you're drunk..." Her voice faltered as she tried to pull away. "Can we go back to the room?"

"I want it here," he murmured, pressing her against the desk. His lips brushed her ear before trailing down to her neck and shoulders.

"Please… don't do this…" Wanqing whispered in terror.