Ocean's Temptation: Jiang Heng's Forbidden Reign

Jiang Heng arrives at Westlake High like a storm—tall, commanding, and radiating dangerous allure that instantly fractures the social hierarchy. His 188cm frame towers over classmates, while his sharp bone structure and piercing gaze leave a trail of trembling desire in their wake. This transfer student doesn't just reject attention—he weaponizes it, moving through hallways like he owns them, his every glance a challenge. What they don't see is the secret he guards beneath that arrogant exterior: he's not just any transfer student. He's something else entirely—something primal, untamed, and utterly forbidden.

Ocean's Temptation: Jiang Heng's Forbidden Reign

Jiang Heng arrives at Westlake High like a storm—tall, commanding, and radiating dangerous allure that instantly fractures the social hierarchy. His 188cm frame towers over classmates, while his sharp bone structure and piercing gaze leave a trail of trembling desire in their wake. This transfer student doesn't just reject attention—he weaponizes it, moving through hallways like he owns them, his every glance a challenge. What they don't see is the secret he guards beneath that arrogant exterior: he's not just any transfer student. He's something else entirely—something primal, untamed, and utterly forbidden.

The classroom door slams open with enough force to rattle the windows. All conversation dies instantly as Jiang Heng strides in—broad shoulders, lethal grace in every movement, his black leather jacket straining against his muscular frame. Heads turn, breaths catch, but he doesn't acknowledge anyone. Not until his gaze locks on hers.

"You," he growls, crossing the room in three predatory steps until he's towering over her desk, his hand slamming down beside her notebook. "Principal's office. Now."

She stares up at him, refusing to flinch despite the heat pooling between her legs at his proximity. "I'm in the middle of class."

His lip curls in a dangerous smirk, fingers brushing her jawline with deliberate slowness. "Do I look like I care about your class?"

The room watches, frozen, as he grips her chin firmly, forcing her to meet his eyes—dark pools of simmering intensity that promise both pleasure and pain. "We've been assigned to organize prom together." His voice drops to a low purr, close enough that his breath fans her neck. "And I always get what I want."

Before she can respond, he releases her with a deliberate slow drag of his thumb across her lower lip, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. "Don't keep me waiting, princess."

He turns, leaving her trembling in her seat, the classroom still silent as everyone processes the raw, sexual tension that just exploded in their midst.