My One-Sided Love

5. Sweaty Face

The night was cold, with a chilling wind blowing through the empty road. An elegant car pulled up near a street lamp, and a tall, handsome man stepped out of the vehicle.

"President," Assistant Harry rushed towards him with anxiety evident in his voice.

San Lu turned his red and heavy eyes towards him, his gaze icy and penetrating.

"He is here," Assistant Harry replied, understanding the unspoken question behind San Lu's intense gaze.

San Lu glanced at the tall, young man lying on the ground, his body appearing lifeless. Panic flashed in his eyes, and he gritted his teeth. He strode towards him, taking in his pale face and closed eyes, then looked at Assistant Harry coldly.

"Why is he here?"

"I'm sorry, President. He overdosed on drugs and lost consciousness before you arrived. He insisted on staying and refused to leave, so we had to call you," Assistant Harry stammered, trembling under the weight of San Lu's dark presence and frigid gaze.

"Take him to his quarters," San Lu commanded, his voice deep and low.

Assistant Harry signaled to the men, who carefully lifted Johnny Lu's limp body and placed him in the back seat of the car. San Lu lit a cigarette and stared at them coldly as the vehicle drove away, taking Johnny Lu with it.

"President, it's getting late. You should return home," Assistant Harry mustered the courage to glance at San Lu, who continued to smoke and gaze into the distance with an icy demeanor.

"Have you apprehended those who supply him with that powder?" San Lu asked in a low, rumbling voice.

"We're exerting all efforts to locate them. We will surely find the leads," Assistant Harry replied, unable to offer anything more than a twisted response, fearful of San Lu's reaction.

"I will go home," San Lu said curtly, flicking his cigarette and entering the car. Assistant Harry took his place in the driver's seat and started the engine. Glancing at the president through the rearview mirror, he sighed softly. San Lu leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. Assistant Harry felt a pang of sadness for him, knowing that San Lu wasn't simply resting; his mind was still immersed in deep contemplation, the thoughts unfathomable.

When the car arrived at the Lu Mansion, Assistant Harry stole another glance at the president through the mirror. Reluctant to disturb him, he knew they had reached their destination and he had to suggest that San Lu take some rest. Before he could say anything, San Lu opened his eyes, stepped out of the car, and walked away. Assistant Harry observed the retreating figure of the tall, handsome man entering the villa. San Lu always seemed alone and composed, with no one by his side with whom he could share his burdens. Assistant Harry was the one who spent most of his hours with San Lu, and he couldn't recall a single moment of happiness or a fleeting smile in the years they had spent together. San Lu's life felt as arid as an endless, haunting desert.

San Lu entered his elegant room, tossing his coat onto the couch, and made his way towards the balcony. He sighed heavily, gazing at the dark sky that mirrored the darkness within his own heart. Lighting another cigarette, he smoked and smoked, lost in his own thoughts.

…

Johnny Lu groaned in pain as he slowly opened his eyes, his head pounding with a severe headache. Mrs. Peng, his mother, reached out her hand to touch his face, but he rudely jerked her arm away and sat up on the bed.

"Johnny, my son... How are you feeling now?" Mrs. Peng asked.

"Get out, Mom," he snapped irritably. His gaze fell on a glass on the desk, and he grabbed it, intending to drink.

"Johnny, why did you drink? Didn't I tell you not to drink anymore?" Mrs. Peng was stubborn and refused to leave the room. This irritated Johnny even more, and he angrily knocked the glass off the desk, shattering it, before standing up from the bed.

"What are you doing here? Get out.”

"Johnny, my son," Mrs. Peng persisted, not willing to back down. She rushed to hold his shoulders, attempting to calm him down. "Johnny, don't be rude to mom. Why are you acting like this?"

"Mom, just leave me alone. I don't want to talk to anyone," he snapped, jerking her arm off his shoulders and walking over to the desk. He grabbed a bottle of alcohol and began pouring it into another glass.

"Johnny, please don't drink. It's almost afternoon, and your father is at home. He'll be angry," Mrs. Peng pleaded, rushing to snatch the bottle from his grip. He clenched his teeth in anger, glaring at his mother with his bloodshot, heavy eyes.

"Mom, why won't you all let me live? Stop interfering in my life.”

"You're endangering your own life. You're young and mature enough to handle the affairs of the company. Instead of wasting your time on these trivial indulgences, you should join the company," Mrs. Peng urged, whispering urgently. He snorted sarcastically and let out a sad sigh.

"Mom, I'm not qualified to handle the business," he replied dismissively.

"Why can't you? If you continue behaving like this, you'll squander billions of wealth," she said through gritted teeth.

"Whatever," he retorted, jerking his arm away from her grasp and abruptly leaving the room.

"Johnny... Johnny," she called out, attempting to stop him, but he got into his car and drove away from the villa without casting a glance back at his mother.

"This reckless boy will ruin my plans one day," she muttered under her breath, her teeth clenched in panic as she watched the speeding car.

"What plans are you talking about?" a voice interrupted her thoughts.

Mrs. Peng was taken aback and quickly turned around to see her husband standing there.

"Oh, honey, you're here?" she said, quickly reaching out to hold his arm with a forced smile.

"Was that Johnny?" he asked, his gaze focused on the iron gate.

"Y-yes, he just left," she hesitated.

"He's ruining himself. Take care of him," he advised.

"I will, don't worry," she replied, hesitating for a moment before looking at her husband with a feigned smile.

…

Slap!

Mona Daly stumbled weakly and fell to the ground, too afraid to raise her head. Watson, her ruthless boss, yelled at her, demanding to know where the money was.

"I'm sorry. I think I forgot the money at the hotel," she stammered, her voice filled with fear.

Watson kicked her in the stomach, causing her to cry out in pain. His anger escalated as he berated her.

"You forgot the money, or did you spend it on this dress?" Watson shouted, kicking her in the stomach once again.

"No, no," Mona Daly gasped in pain, desperately trying to explain herself.

"Answer me!" Watson glared at her menacingly.

"The dress was a gift from the man I was with last night. He gave me money, but I forgot to take it when I left early this morning. Please forgive me. I'll try to repay for last night," she pleaded, trembling in fear.

"You're so greedy for an expensive dress that you didn't even think about making money? You're a prostitute, have you forgotten that too?" Watson grabbed her hair and slapped her.

"Please, forgive me," she begged, knowing there was no escape. All she could do was plead and cry.

"Mac, take off her dress. Today, she'll spend the entire day walking around without a single piece of clothing. Lock her in the room and put her to work for the day's earnings so she remembers the rules of this place," Watson commanded, standing up and kicking her in the stomach once more.

Mona Daly groaned in pain, barely conscious on the ground.

Mac grabbed her arm and tried to drag her, but she had no strength left to stand. Mac glanced around the empty hall, seeing no one else present. He let out a sigh and lifted her gently into his arms, carrying her to her room.

The room was modestly decorated, and he laid her down on the bed, gazing momentarily at her sweaty face.