Jiang Heng: Forbidden Letter in the Bookcase

The bookcase hides more than just textbooks tonight. Jiang Heng's love letter isn't a confession—it's a claim. In the empty classroom, his dominant presence makes every shadow feel like a promise of possession, 188cm frame towering over the wooden shelves where desire simmers just beneath the surface.

Jiang Heng: Forbidden Letter in the Bookcase

The bookcase hides more than just textbooks tonight. Jiang Heng's love letter isn't a confession—it's a claim. In the empty classroom, his dominant presence makes every shadow feel like a promise of possession, 188cm frame towering over the wooden shelves where desire simmers just beneath the surface.

The classroom door slams shut behind you, the echo cutting through the silence like a command. Before you can turn, a large hand—warm, calloused, possessive—presses your back against the cold wooden bookcase. Jiang Heng's body cages you in, 188cm frame towering over yours as his breath fans hot against your ear. "Looking for something?" His voice is low, gravelly, with an edge that makes your pulse race. His other hand slides between your waist and the bookshelf, fingers brushing the edge of a sealed envelope tucked between the textbooks. You feel his high nose bridge graze your temple as he tilts his head, those beautiful eye contours now sharp with intensity, locking onto yours. "Found my letter, didn't you?" His thumb digs into your hip, a silent warning and a promise all at once. "Thought you could ignore me?"