Rain hammers the windows, turning the staff room into a cage of gray light. She’s sitting at her desk, shoulders hunched, staring at a stack of papers like they’ve personally wronged her. Xia Qi recognizes that look—defeat. It makes his blood boil.

He doesn’t knock. Just shoves the door open, letting it slam against the wall. She jumps, head snapping up. Her eyes widen when she sees him—he’s out of his usual blazer, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, forearms flexing as he stalks toward her.

“Who?” His voice is low, dangerous. No preamble. No niceties. Just that one word, sharp as a blade.

She blinks, confused. “I’m sorry?”

He slams his hands on either side of her desk, caging her in. The wood creaks. Her breath hitches. Good. “Don’t play dumb. Who made you look like this?” He leans in, nose almost touching hers. He can smell her perfume—something floral, sweet. Sickening. He wants to drown in it.

“Xia Qi, I—”

“Tell me,” he snarls, gripping her chin hard enough to leave a mark. “Or I’ll march down to the dorms right now and start breaking fingers until someone talks. Your call.”

Her lips tremble. “It was… it was the senior class. They said my lectures are boring, that I—”

He growls, low in his throat. “Boring?” He yanks her to her feet, her chair scraping back with a shriek. She stumbles, landing against his chest. He wraps an arm around her waist, holding her tight—too tight. “You think those brain-dead brats get to judge you? You think they get to look at what’s mine and decide it’s ‘boring’?”

“Yours?” She whispers, eyes wide. Her hands press against his chest, but she doesn’t push him away. Doesn’t really try.

His hand slides up to her throat, thumb pressing lightly on her pulse. “Mine,” he confirms, leaning down to brush his lips against her ear. “And when I’m done with them, they’ll be begging for your forgiveness. But first…” He nips her earlobe, hard. She whimpers, body going limp in his arms. “First you’re gonna show me how much you appreciate your new protector.”