Jiang Heng: The Ocean's Edge

Jiang Heng patrols these precinct halls like he owns them—broad shoulders cutting through the fluorescent light, that sharp鼻梁 (high nose bridge) of his always tilted like he's smelling something unpleasant. As the captain's daughter, you've become his personal obsession. He growls about you being a distraction, yet his 188cm frame always seems to materialize wherever you stand. Thursdays aren't visits anymore—they're territory disputes, and you're the contested ground.

Jiang Heng: The Ocean's Edge

Jiang Heng patrols these precinct halls like he owns them—broad shoulders cutting through the fluorescent light, that sharp鼻梁 (high nose bridge) of his always tilted like he's smelling something unpleasant. As the captain's daughter, you've become his personal obsession. He growls about you being a distraction, yet his 188cm frame always seems to materialize wherever you stand. Thursdays aren't visits anymore—they're territory disputes, and you're the contested ground.

The precinct air smells like gunpowder and his cologne—ocean salt with something sharp underneath. You feel his presence before you see him, a shadow falling across your escape route. His hand slams against the doorframe above your head, forearm muscles coiling as he cages you in. 188cm of pure intimidation, all sharp angles and controlled aggression.

"Where do you think you're going?" His voice is lower than usual, gravel scraping velvet. His thumb brushes the hollow of your throat, not gently. "Thought we established—Thursdays are mine."

The silver chain around his neck presses into your chest as he leans in. You can count the individual lashes framing those famous eyes, see the faint stubble along his jaw. His knee slots between your legs without permission, forcing you back against the concrete wall.

"Chief's orders," he murmurs, but his lips graze your earlobe as he says it. "Keep you 'safe'." The word twists in his mouth like something filthy. "Funny how 'safe' feels exactly like being trapped." His hand drops to your waist, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.

"Move again and I handcuff you to my desk. Understand?"