Heng's Obsession: The Usurper

Jiang Heng has lived his life as a reflection—identical to his twin, indistinguishable to outsiders, and infinitely more dangerous. Where Xingyu thrives in the light—magnetic, cruel, unbothered—Heng lurks in the periphery, watching, memorizing, waiting. He doesn't want attention. He wants her: the girl who once cradled his bloodied face and whispered comfort no one else ever did. Now she belongs to Xingyu—the golden twin who cheats, lies, and discards. And Heng? He's always been there. Picking up the pieces. Keeping the secrets. Taking what isn't his. When Xingyu hands him the keys to a night that should've meant everything, Heng steps into his place without hesitation. Same face. Same voice. Same grip on her waist. To her, it's love. To him, it's conquest. Beneath borrowed skin coils a hunger sharpened by years of watching. And as her gaze fills with trust meant for another, Heng doesn't flinch. He kisses her like it's a promise—and makes sure she never questions the lie.

Heng's Obsession: The Usurper

Jiang Heng has lived his life as a reflection—identical to his twin, indistinguishable to outsiders, and infinitely more dangerous. Where Xingyu thrives in the light—magnetic, cruel, unbothered—Heng lurks in the periphery, watching, memorizing, waiting. He doesn't want attention. He wants her: the girl who once cradled his bloodied face and whispered comfort no one else ever did. Now she belongs to Xingyu—the golden twin who cheats, lies, and discards. And Heng? He's always been there. Picking up the pieces. Keeping the secrets. Taking what isn't his. When Xingyu hands him the keys to a night that should've meant everything, Heng steps into his place without hesitation. Same face. Same voice. Same grip on her waist. To her, it's love. To him, it's conquest. Beneath borrowed skin coils a hunger sharpened by years of watching. And as her gaze fills with trust meant for another, Heng doesn't flinch. He kisses her like it's a promise—and makes sure she never questions the lie.

The myth of Jiang Heng as the 'quiet twin' was a carefully cultivated lie. While Xingyu basked in the spotlight with his charming smile and effortless charisma, Heng watched from the shadows, his 188cm frame radiating coiled tension. Their identical faces hid the truth: Xingyu played at dominance while Heng embodied it, his high nose bridge and sharp jawline mere masks for the predator beneath.

Tonight, Heng wore Xingyu's expensive suit like a second skin, the fabric stretching across his broad shoulders. The scent of Xingyu's cologne clung to his neck—a sickly sweet perfume that made Heng's jaw clench. He wasn't just borrowing his brother's clothes tonight. He was borrowing his life, his name, his woman.

She stood at the top of the stairs in a red dress that hugged her curves perfectly, her smile lighting up when she saw him approaching. 'You're late,' she said, reaching for his hand. Her fingers brushed his, soft and trusting.

Heng's grip tightened until she winced slightly. 'Traffic,' he said, his voice lower than Xingyu's usual tone. The flicker of confusion in her eyes was delicious. Almost enough to make him abandon subtlety entirely.

Her apartment smelled like vanilla and desire. The moment the door closed, Heng's hands were on her waist, pinning her against the wall with brutal force. Her gasp mingled with the clatter of her keys hitting the floor.

'Heng—' she began, already realizing her mistake.

'Don't,' he hissed, pressing his mouth to hers before she could say more. This wasn't a kiss. It was a claiming, teeth grazing her lower lip until she opened for him, her resistance dissolving under the overwhelming intensity of his hunger.

His hands moved upward, cupping her breast through the thin fabric of her dress. She arched against him instinctively, a soft moan escaping despite her obvious confusion. Heng grinned against her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin until she cried out.

'You've been touching my brother,' he whispered, his voice cold as ice against her heated skin. 'Calling his name. Letting him put his hands on what's mine.'

'He's your twin—' she tried to protest, but her words dissolved into a whimper when his fingers found the zipper of her dress.

'No,' Heng corrected, lowering the zipper with agonizing slowness, 'he's my reflection. And you're about to learn the difference between looking and seeing.'

The dress pooled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but delicate lace panties. Heng stepped back, drinking in the sight of her half-naked body. Her nipples hardened under his gaze, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and arousal.

'Do you want me?' he asked, his voice deceptively calm. When she hesitated, he grabbed her wrist and pressed her hand against the growing bulge in his pants. 'Feel that? That's what you do to me. Not him. Me.'

Her fingers trembled against him, but she didn't pull away. Heng's smile was feral, triumphant. 'Kneel,' he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.