The moment the bedroom door slammed shut, all my senses were cranked into overdrive. The crisp, cool scent of cedarwood, the steady thrum of Fu Yanli’s heartbeat, the searing heat radiating from his arms… everything was a stark reminder that danger was right in front of my face.

Yet he didn’t throw me onto the bed as I had imagined. Instead, he carried me to the floor-to-ceiling window, where the city lights below glittered like a scattered galaxy. The glass reflected our image: me, completely swallowed in his embrace, a posture of unmistakable possession. No matter how you looked at it, I resembled a helpless little prey captured by a seasoned hunter.

“Look outside,” his deep voice rumbled right above my head.

Baffled, I did as he said. He spoke calmly, his tone as even as if he were reading off a financial report:

“Here, twenty thousand per square meter. Your car, over two hundred thousand. The ring on your finger is a one-of-a-kind piece I won at an auction.”

I stayed silent, my heart tightening.

“Tang Yu, I give you the best life, the ultimate freedom. Why are you still not satisfied?”

The same old lecture. Leave it to a professor to stick strictly to an outline’s logic even during a fight. Furious to the point of trembling, I mustered all my strength to squirm out of his arms:

“Fu Yanli, get off your high horse! What I need is a human being made of flesh and blood! Someone who can smile, get mad, feel jealous, and actually live… not a moneymaking robot!”

An eerie silence fell over the room. His body went rigid for a split second, and then, without warning, his arms tightened around me, as if he wanted to crush me directly into his chest.

“So…” He leaned down, the tip of his nose almost brushing mine, his eyes gleaming with an unhinged intensity in the dark. “All those little stunts on your neck were just to make me jealous?”

I was terrified, but sheer stubbornness drowned out my reason. “What if they were? Too bad you couldn’t care less!”

“Couldn’t care less?” He let out a low, cold laugh that sent a wave of goosebumps down my spine.

“Tang Yu, you’re dead wrong.”

Before the words fully registered, he spun around, scooped me off my feet, and threw me onto the bed. Before I could even sit up, he hovered over me, propping his hands on either side of my head to cage me in.

“If you want to see me lose control so badly…” He removed his glasses, tossing them aside, the usual composure in his eyes completely shattered. “…then I’ll indulge you.”

The distance vanished. The air grew thick and suffocating. My mind went blank, leaving only a single thought: He’s gone completely insane. But what was even scarier was that… I didn’t feel any aversion to this madness at all.

After a long while, he paused, his forehead resting against mine. Both of our breaths were ragged and uneven. Deep within his dark eyes, a tempest of chaotic emotions swirled so violently it looked almost agonizing.

“Tell me,” he rasped, his voice rough and low. “Who is he?”

I froze. He was still fixated on “that guy”? Had he really not realized the hickey was fake? A mischievous idea sparked in my mind, and I decided to play the role out to the end. I wrapped my arms around his neck, leaning close to his ear to whisper provocatively:

“Why don’t you guess… A brilliant professor like you, try guessing what he looks like. Is he… better than you?”

The air instantly froze solid. His entire body tautened like a bowstring pulled to its absolute limit.

“Tang. Yu.” He ground out my name through clenched teeth.

I knew I was utterly screwed. The sheer tension made it hard to breathe. Outside the window, the city lights continued to burn brightly, but my entire world had shrunk down to this single man, the very man I had dragged out of his perfect shell with my own hands.

The next morning.

When I woke up, the spot beside me had long been cold, leaving behind only a lingering trace of cedarwood and the unmistakable aftermath of a night that “could not be undone.” I tried to move, but my body immediately reminded me of a harsh truth: human endurance has its limits.

I pulled back the blanket, catching sight of the faint marks scattered across my skin, and my face instantly flushed red. Especially on my neck, yesterday’s fountain pen mark had been “upgraded” to a far more vivid and long-lasting version.

On the nightstand sat a glass of warm water, a tube of ointment, and a handwritten note. Fu Yanli’s penmanship remained sharp and precise, true to his control-freak nature:

Short, concise, not a single wasted word. Classic him. I stared at the tube of ointment, a complex mix of emotions welling up inside me. Guess he wasn’t completely heartless after all.

Just as I picked up my phone to check the time, a text from an unknown number popped up:

Zhou Yuran? I dug through my memory… Ah, right. The decently good-looking oil painting major who had struck up a conversation and asked for my contact info at an art exhibition. I had handed it over casually at the time and completely forgotten about it afterward.

Why was he suddenly reaching out now? I tapped to read more:

Attached was a photo of his studio, bathed in warm sunlight, oozing artistic atmosphere. Looking at the screen, a daring idea suddenly flashed in my head.

A model? Wasn’t this the ultimate candidate for my “side piece”? Fu Yanli wanted so badly to know who the guy was, right? Fine, I’d give him someone to look at.

Without a second thought, my fingers flew across the keyboard:

The reply came back instantly: If you’re free, how about this afternoon?

I tossed my phone aside, full of determination. Round two had officially begun.

Ignoring my aching body, which felt like it had survived a high-level torture session, I dragged myself into the walk-in closet. If I was going to play the part, I had to do it right. I picked out a striking crimson slip dress that accentuated every curve and made my fair skin pop.

I styled my hair into soft waves and put on a “naturally flawless” makeup look. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I let out a triumphant smile:

“Fu Yanli, brace yourself. I’m not as sweet and harmless as you think.”

Instead of driving, I intentionally hailed a cab to Zhou Yuran’s studio. The moment he saw me, his eyes lit up as if he’d struck gold:

“Miss Tang Yu, you’re here!”

I flashed a polite smile. “Thanks for having me.”

To be honest, modeling was infinitely more boring than I had anticipated. Standing, sitting, angling my head, keeping completely still without moving a muscle… I felt like I was turning into a marble statue. But for the sake of the grand scheme, I gritted my teeth and endured it.

During a break, Zhou Yuran brought over some water and tried to start a conversation:

“Are you married? I noticed your ring.”

“Yeah,” I replied offhandedly, “but I’m about to get divorced soon.”

His eyes brightened even further, his tone turning distinctly eager: “Really? Well… that’s great.”

Great for what? I mentally scoffed. The guy’s intentions were way too transparent. I immediately switched to “melancholy female lead” mode and let out a soft sigh: “My husband… doesn’t treat me very well.”

“That’s unacceptable!” Zhou Yuran instantly stepped into the role of a knight in shining armor. “A beautiful woman like you deserves to be cherished.”

Saying that, he stepped closer, reaching a hand out toward my shoulder to comfort me.

The studio door was violently kicked open. Both Zhou Yuran and I jumped, whipping our heads around. Standing in the doorway was a tall silhouette backlit by the hall light, dressed in a crisp black suit, radiating an aura so icy that the surrounding air seemed to shrink back in fear.

Even without seeing his face clearly, I knew exactly who it was.

Fu Yanli.

My mind exploded with a barrage of questions: How on earth did he find this place so fast? Does he actually have a GPS tracker on me?!

Zhou Yuran stood up, looking annoyed. “Who are you?”

Fu Yanli ignored him entirely. He stepped inside, his movements unhurried, yet every heavy thud of his shoes against the floor felt like a direct stomp on my heart. He stopped right in front of me, his gaze sweeping over my revealing red dress before coming to a halt on my bare shoulders and Zhou Yuran’s hovering hand.

The air froze solid. Fu Yanli’s gaze was as sharp as a scalpel. Then, with deliberate slowness, he unbuttoned his suit jacket, draped it over my shoulders, and wrapped it tightly around me, leaving not a single inch exposed.

“We’re going home.”

Three short words, dropped in absolute zero degrees.

“Who do you think you are? You can’t just drag her away for no reason!” Zhou Yuran protested.

Fu Yanli finally deigned to glance at him. It was a single look, enough to make anyone reevaluate their entire life choices. Instead of answering, he suddenly leaned down and captured my lips in a kiss.

It was a fierce, decisive kiss, dripping with punishment. Its sole purpose: marking his territory.

Zhou Yuran froze, completely paralyzed on the spot. Only when Fu Yanli released my lips did he speak in a flat, indifferent voice:

“Because I’m her husband.”

The artist’s face went from flushed red to dead white in less than three seconds. Seeing that expression, I felt an undeniable surge of petty satisfaction. Sudden forced kiss aside, this scene was worth every single penny.

Fu Yanli clamped his arm tightly around my waist, glaring at Zhou Yuran as if he were an extraneous object waiting to be disposed of:

“Using my wife as a model… not a bad idea.”

Zhou Yuran trembled slightly. “I… I didn’t know…”

“Now you do.” The answer fell like a blade cutting off all hope.

He turned to carry me away. Zhou Yuran made one last desperate attempt: “What about the painting…”

Fu Yanli stopped, not even bothering to turn back, and tossed a bone-chilling sentence over his shoulder:

“You’re not worthy of painting her. From now on… stay far away.”

With that, he swept me out of the studio, leaving the guy without a single chance to utter another word.