“Lingling, you do it. I will leave the opportunity to you.” Pang Tangwen whispered, his voice low and close to Ling Qiongqiong’s ear.
Ling Qiongqiong curled her lips into a malicious smile. “Thank you, Young Master Pang.”
Lin Ze turned to leave, but someone grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him backward.
“Hey! Where are you going?”
Ling Qiongqiong tugged at his collar and picked up the bottle of wine from the table, pouring it over Lin Ze’s head.
The crimson liquid flowed down Lin Ze’s hair, and several unmelted ice cubes fell to the floor. Red, wet trails appeared on his fair face, and beads of red liquid shimmered on his distinct eyelashes. The ice-cold alcohol, mixed with the low temperature of the room, sent a bone-chilling cold through Lin Ze.
“Ling Qiongqiong, are you sick in the head?” Lin Ze clenched his fists, a fierce, vicious intensity burning in his chest.
Even though he clenched his fists tightly, he hesitated to strike Ling Qiongqiong. It was not that Lin Ze was afraid; rather, as a man, he had never once raised a hand against a woman.
Ling Qiongqiong sensed this weakness in him. While she had been momentarily startled by his shout a second ago, she now triumphantly curled the corners of her mouth. She brandished the half-empty bottle in front of his face, acting like a little delinquent.
“Do not think you can walk away so easily. Even if you resign tonight, you must finish this bottle!”
Lin Ze snorted, having no intention of entertaining her mad ramblings. He turned and reached for the doorknob.
Pang Tangwen signaled to his two companions, who quickly stepped forward and seized Lin Ze. Caught off guard, Lin Ze had his arms pinned tightly behind his back. With a cold, sinister gaze, he glared at Pang Tangwen and roared, “Let me go!”
“Did you hear my Lingling baby? Drink it!”
Pang Tangwen stood up from his seat and walked over to him. He grabbed the bottle from Ling Qiongqiong’s hand, seized Lin Ze by the hair, and with a ruthless expression, forced the bottle toward Lin Ze’s mouth.
Lin Ze struggled, but his mouth remained tightly shut, giving Pang Tangwen no opportunity to force the liquid inside. The crimson liquid could not enter his closed lips and instead flowed wildly down his chin.
Pang Tangwen frowned, annoyed by Lin Ze’s stubbornness. He gestured behind him, and a man stepped forward, slamming his fist hard into Lin Ze’s abdomen.
“Ugh.”
The other women in the private room felt pity for Lin Ze, but none dared to step forward to help or intercede. The intense pain in his internal organs made Lin Ze wrinkle his brow in agony, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead.
Seeing this pitiable state, Ling Qiongqiong felt a surge of satisfaction. Was he not arrogant? Did he not love rejecting her? He deserved to be tormented. Her eyes, filled with venom, gleamed with pleasure.
The pained grunt he let out gave Pang Tangwen the opportunity he needed. He shoved the bottle against Lin Ze’s mouth again.
“Gulp, gulp.”
The alcohol poured into Lin Ze’s stomach. The concentration of the wine was extremely high. What was meant to be shared among a whole room of people was now forced down Lin Ze’s throat for more than half the bottle. Soon, the bottle was empty, and Pang Tangwen finally released his grip. The two men pinning Lin Ze also let go.
“Cough, cough.” Lin Ze uncontrollably fell to his knees, clutching his throat and coughing painfully as he choked on the alcohol. The burning sensation of the spirits wreaked havoc in his gut, making him feel excruciatingly ill.
“Get lost, kid.” Pang Tangwen looked down at him, contemptuously kicking him twice.
Lin Ze’s reddened eyes welled with moisture. He glared at Pang Tangwen and slowly stood up, supporting himself against the wall.
Pang Tangwen, who had turned away to set down the bottle, did not notice the fierce, murderous look Lin Ze had fixed on him. Lin Ze stared at him like a wild beast ready to tear its enemy to pieces in the next second.
He gathered all his strength into his fists and suddenly grabbed Pang Tangwen by the collar, slamming a punch into his face.
“Ah.” Ling Qiongqiong screamed, terrified by the scene. Her heart hammered in her throat; she was terrified that Lin Ze, blinded by rage, would lose his senses and punch her too.
The people around them shouted. Lin Ze held onto Pang Tangwen’s collar, never letting go, landing punch after punch on his face. The situation spiraled out of control. Pang Tangwen, squinting through his injured eye, grimaced and called for his friends.
“Well? Why are you just standing there? Pull this madman away! Pull him off!” Pang Tangwen yelled.
Since his companions had never seen anyone dare to fight Pang Tangwen like this, they were stunned and slow to react. Although Lin Ze fought fiercely and ruthlessly, he was outnumbered and eventually overpowered.
Pang Tangwen touched his face, wincing in pain. A rage, unlike anything he had felt in decades, surged through his chest. He wanted to trample Lin Ze’s face into the mud.
Seeing Lin Ze, who was still fierce even while being held down by several men, Pang Tangwen checked his urge to kick him. He picked up an empty bottle from the table and, with a hint of fear, ordered the others, “You better hold him tight!”
“Damn it, if I do not teach you a lesson, you will think I am soft,” Pang Tangwen said, his eyes filled with malice as the flesh on his cheeks bunched up into a cruel smirk.