WARNING! Tsundere President

Under the sunny and blue sky, there stood a nursing home we all grew familiar seeing, where the bird chirped serenely.

“I have three bamboos.”

“Pung!”

“Can you stop pung-ing and pairing everything I send out?”

“Sorry but looks like I’m in luck today,” said Qiu Ran proudly as she shuffled the Mahjong tiles with her two scowling table mates.

Huo Yunting was there on the relaxer nearby. It was a mixed feeling to view his mother acting so 30 minutes after what Lu had done to him at Thunderbolt Corp.

Her mother was sent to the mental hospital the moment Zhaoyang’s mother took over as the mistress of his home. She was depressed, even lunatic at times where she would scream on top of her lungs the names who destroyed her life but now she was actually happy. Playing Mahjong and laughing at her victories. Ironically, despite her remembering the rules to ace Mahjong, she no longer recognized her own son.

Sometimes she did but most of the time she did not.

“Sir,” greeted the nursery home’s owner with a cup of hot tea. He sat next to him and looked at Qiu Ran with his visitor, “She’s been very well lately. It’s just that she doesn’t recognize people that much anymore.”

The words felt irritatingly sarcastic to Yunting’s ears. He pressed the cup onto the bench next to him with his eyes squinted, “Is it universally acknowledged that being well is being forgetful of everything important, may I ask?”

“I did not mean that, President Huo. Compared to her uncontrolled behavior due to her agony, she’s recovering now. A catharsis perhaps. Regarding memories, it’ll be only a matter of time till she recognizes everyone again. The mental breakdown is a thing much worse than she has now.” explained the nursery home’s head.

“I just would like to know when my mother could be cured,” replied Huo Yunting coldly as he observed his mother having fun with every draw she managed to produce. He sometimes waved to call her but she was enjoying laughing at the dead hand of her foes.

They saw each other like strangers.

“President, sir, we are trying our best to cure the mistress as soon as possible!”

Okay, I’ve heard enough of the same crap you useless doctors had uttered for the past few months.

He got up and replied indifferently, “Please. Take. Care. Of. Her. *Properly*.”

“Yes, sir. Certainly, absolutely. Have a safe journey home.” The head bowed again and again as he saw him leaving. Right after the devil’s silhouette vanished on the other side of the building, the head nearly collapsed due to stress. He wiped his watery forehead and panted.

Sometimes, you might encounter a certain type of people whose words are concise yet so devastating.

Like Huo Yunting.

——

The Rolls-Royce raced home right after that with the driver’s mind wondering if his woman remained at his house.

“Sir.”

“Good evening, sir.”

The greeting of the frightened maids was unheard as the master stormed into his bedroom upon seeing what once belonged to him was nowhere to be found in the living room.

…

The bedroom was wide open. He was not even given the chance to hold some final hope to himself. T

The room was empty.

The person was already gone.

He slowed down his steps as he surveyed the messy floor below, during which his mind could not help but recreate imagery of her packing things clumsily like a fish thrashing upshore.

He lifted his head, only to see above the tidily folded blanket a shiny emerald bracelet.

That was the sole gift from him and she abandoned it.

Huo Yunting could hear his heart pounding like clatters of the empty cabinet he opened. He searched through the wardrobe. There were his coat, suit, gym shirt and…

There was nothing else.

The dresses, kitty T-shirts, the Victorian Secret he used to force her to wear on one night, they were all gone.

It was as if she had never existed in his life yet she kept haunting him in his mind.

Crash!

His fist launched into the mirror inside the wardrobe. His reflection shattered like his old life as he heard the clinks nearby. The bottles were all rolling on top of the cream-colored dressing table she used to use. Only the empty bottles were there. He could tell among the small number of cosmetics left on the table. He almost saw a number of his collapsed self on the table.

Those bottles were unwanted, just like him!

And he despised himself, everything that resembled what he once had.

He stomped his way to the vanity and swept all of the bottles to the ground.

“Sir, are you okay?” Said the maid as she peeked through the door after hearing the crashes upstairs.

“Sir—you…” The man ignored his maid and hurried his way towards the porch.

WIthin a minute, the Rolls-Royce galloped away like a dark horse from the underworld.