Her body was unsteady, so she simply sat down on the floor and slipped off her pair of red high heels.
Her wavy, chestnut-colored hair fell over her flushed cheeks. Her beautiful face was adorned with delicate, perfectly proportioned features, giving her a resemblance to a popular celebrity at first glance.
Unaware of Zhaoran’s presence, as she sat down, her short skirt rode up, revealing everything to him. Beneath it, she wore a white thong, pulled tight against her body. Had the lighting been any brighter, it would have been nearly transparent.
During the time when Zhouyun had been absent, Zhaoran had imagined countless scenarios of reuniting with his stepmother, but he never expected it to unfold like this.
How had she become like this?
What exactly had happened over the past year?
“Xiao Ran? You’re back?”
“No… How could you be back? I must be dreaming…”
As the intoxicated Zhouyun looked up and saw the face she had longed for day and night, she couldn’t help but become captivated, and the words in her heart spilled from her lips.
Staggering unsteadily, Zhouyun approached him. Zhaoran caught the scent of alcohol mixed with perfume emanating from her—a fragrance that exuded the allure of a libertine woman, one easily capable of stirring a man’s desires.
Zhaoran averted his gaze, his eyes now filled with accusation.
“Tell me, were you out fooling around??”
Zhaoran’s harsh words clearly discomforted Zhouyun.
“Xiao Ran, how can you speak to your stepmother like that? What do you know, you’re just a child?”
“I don’t understand? Do you think I’m an idiot? What kind of decent woman comes home this late? If you want a man, just say it. Leave this house and fool around all you want—no one will care. But don’t embarrass yourself here!” The mere thought of certain possibilities made Zhaoran’s anger burn uncontrollably.
As she drew closer, Zhouyun sobered up slightly, finally realizing that Zhaoran had truly returned.
Her heart was filled with surprise, uncertainty, and countless unspoken grievances. Yet, in this moment, hearing his accusatory words, her body stiffened.
Zhouyun looked at Zhaoran with a complex expression, a stark contrast to her usual dignified and gentle maternal demeanor.
“Zhaoran, is this really how you see me? As that kind of woman?”
“Aren’t you? Don’t play the saint after acting like a whore. My father died under mysterious circumstances—wasn’t it because you coveted his money and colluded with someone to scheme against him?”
Zhouyun, enraged by his words, trembled with her chest heaving. She raised her hand to slap him, but Zhaoran’s fierce glare made her hesitate. She lowered her hand helplessly and let out a deep sigh.
“Your father has been gone for a year. I’m only in my thirties—I’m still young. Even if I did seek out another man, what would be wrong with that? All these years in this family, haven’t I treated you like my own son? And how have you treated me? After your father passed away, someone had to manage the club, right? I’ve been doing all this for our family’s business. You left without a word, and now you suddenly return to accuse me.凭什么！？I can’t even be bothered to argue with you!”
With that, Zhouyun turned to leave for her room, but Zhaoran took a step forward and grabbed her delicate, soft wrist.
“Stop pretending to be noble! Dressing so provocatively—isn’t it just because you want a man to fuck you?!” Zhaoran shouted, his anger having long consumed his rationality, leaving no room for him to consider how offensive his words sounded.