Ziyu stood on the threshold, anticipating Mr Qin's emergence from his room. His relief was palpable when he realized Mr. Qin hadn't yet made an appearance.
He knew all too well the disdain Mr. Qin harbored for his stepmother, a sentiment rooted in years of bitter history and unspoken grievances.
His attention diverted to the middle-aged woman standing before him, her presence radiating an air of false authority and entitlement. "Good day, Mrs. Ren Xin," Ziyu greeted her respectfully, acknowledging her despite the bitter taste her name left in his mouth.
Without warning, a searing slap landed on Ziyu's cheek, a cruel and swift manifestation of her pent-up rage. His composure remained unwavering; he neither flinched nor acknowledged the assault.
It was a familiar act, one he had grown accustomed to—a demonstration of her contempt whenever he dared to address her by her name rather than the title she fervently claimed.
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