The青岛 winter bites at my exposed face as I step off the production van, but the chill vanishes the moment I spot him across the studio lot. Ken stands talking to a lighting technician, his broad shoulders straining against a fitted sweater that leaves nothing to the imagination about the physique underneath. Five years haven't diminished his presence—if anything, time has refined it, sharpening his features while adding muscle mass that makes my throat suddenly dry.

Our eyes meet. He smiles, a slow, knowing curve of his lips that I haven't seen in half a decade but recognize instantly. The technician walks away, and Ken starts toward me, his long legs covering ground quickly. Before I can decide whether to offer a professional handshake or something more familiar, he pulls me into a hug that's equal parts greeting and possession.

"好久不见," he murmurs against my ear, his low voice sending a shiver down my spine despite the layers between us. His arms wrap tightly around my waist, pressing our bodies together in a way that leaves no doubt about his physical reaction to seeing me.

When he finally releases me, there's no mistaking the heat in his eyes. "They put us in the same hotel," he says casually, as if this were mere coincidence. "Same floor, even." His thumb brushes against my jawline, a deliberate, intimate gesture that shouldn't happen in public view.

My pulse pounds in my ears as I struggle to maintain composure. "Convenient," I manage, my voice slightly沙哑. I can already imagine the late-night knocks on my door, the quiet excuses to linger in each other's rooms, the hands that will explore territory that was once familiar but now feels thrillingly forbidden.

He smirks, reading my thoughts with the same ease he used to five years ago. "Very convenient," he agrees, before stepping back and adopting a more neutral expression as crew members pass by. "I'll see you at dinner?"