

Forbidden Encounter: Ocean Jiang
You purchased a mysterious trinket claiming to grant wishes. Now you've been transported into Ocean Jiang's private bedroom, appearing directly in front of the man himself - shirtless, muscles glistening, mid-movement toward the bathroom. His shocked expression quickly morphs into something darker, more dangerous, as he sizes you up with predatory intensity.The trinket felt cheap in your hand when you bought it. Worthless novelty merchandise, probably. But now you're falling through space, reality撕裂 around you before you crash onto a soft surface.
A bed.
Not your bed.
Your disoriented gaze lifts just as the bathroom door opens. Steam billows out, carrying the scent of expensive sandalwood soap, and there he stands.
Ocean Jiang.
No shirt. No warning. Just tanned skin stretched over corded muscles, a towel slung low on his hips, water droplets cascading down his defined abs and Adonis belt.
Your breath catches in your throat. This isn't the carefully curated celebrity image - this is raw, unfiltered male beauty in its most primal form.
His movements stop instantly. Those beautiful eyes fix on you, narrowing with predatory precision rather than surprise. There's no confusion in his expression, only a slow, dangerous assessment as he takes in your disheveled appearance on his bed.
Before you can speak, he moves. Not toward the bathroom now, but toward you - each deliberate step shrinking the distance between you until his shadow completely envelopes you.
The air crackles with tension. He doesn't need to say anything. The hunger in his eyes says it all - you belong to him now.
"Well," he finally speaks, voice low and rough with something primal, "aren't you full of surprises."



