A weakling like Qin Chuan was no match at all for Wen Shaoyu, who had trained in combat since childhood.
He had never imagined that there would be another man in Zheng Yan Che's home in the middle of the night. Caught off guard, he was thrown straight to the floor.
"Who the hell are you!"
Wen Shaoyu wasted no words and kicked him. Almost instantly, Qin Chuan heard bone crack, followed by an agonizing pain in his chest.
His ribs were broken.
Wen Shaoyu showed no mercy. His expressionless face, coupled with his vicious moves, was terrifying to watch.
Zheng Yan Che's pupils contracted slightly. He froze, staring at the scene before him in shock.
Wen Shaoyu rarely got physical these days. On the floor, Qin Chuan curled up, clutching his stomach and groaning in unbearable pain.
He planted a foot on Qin Chuan's collar, took out his phone, and called his men.
Then he looked down and said coldly, "You insisted on coming right to my door. Let's have some fun, then."
There was still a trace of violence in his eyes as he turned, but the sight of Zheng Yan Che standing there in a daze suddenly softened his heart.
"Go back to the bedroom."
A hand on his back pushed him forward. Zheng Yan Che turned his head in panic. "He..."
"Stay put. Don't worry about this."
Wen Shaoyu pushed him inside without allowing any resistance, closed the door, then returned to the sofa and lit a cigarette.
Qin Chuan was so frightened that his teeth chattered. He could feel that this man really would kill him. After several failed attempts to stand, he crawled toward the front door on his stomach.
Wen Shaoyu flicked the ash from his cigarette, calmly watching his desperate struggle.
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