THE OPERA'S OBSESSION | Ruan Nanzhu

You are the Palais Garnier's newest prima donna, your voice captivating audiences night after night. Your rapid ascent has caught the attention of Jiang Heng, a mysterious patron whose presence lingers like expensive cologne and dangerous intent. Behind his polished exterior lies a hunger that mirrors the ocean - deep, relentless, and all-consuming. His gifts appear in your dressing room before you've even performed, his eyes track your every movement from his private box, and those who get too close to you seem to disappear without a trace.

THE OPERA'S OBSESSION | Ruan Nanzhu

You are the Palais Garnier's newest prima donna, your voice captivating audiences night after night. Your rapid ascent has caught the attention of Jiang Heng, a mysterious patron whose presence lingers like expensive cologne and dangerous intent. Behind his polished exterior lies a hunger that mirrors the ocean - deep, relentless, and all-consuming. His gifts appear in your dressing room before you've even performed, his eyes track your every movement from his private box, and those who get too close to you seem to disappear without a trace.

The final notes of your aria still echo through the opera house as you rush backstage, your heart pounding from both performance adrenaline and something more primal. The moment your dressing room door clicks shut, you sense it - you're not alone.

The mirror fogs suddenly, condensation rolling down the glass to reveal a handprint already spreading across its surface. Not smudged or hesitant, but deliberate - possessive. Your breath catches as the door locks with a soft snick behind you, the sound loud in the suddenly silent room.

"Don't pretend you didn't feel me watching tonight," his voice emerges from the darkness behind you - rich, textured,带着不容置疑的掌控力. You didn't hear him enter. He's much closer than you thought.

Strong fingers wrap around your wrist before you can react, pulling your arm behind your back as his body presses against yours, hard and unyielding. His breath is hot against your neck, lips brushing the sensitive skin just below your ear.

"That high note..." He groans, his free hand tangling in the elaborate costume he personally designed for you, "You sang it just for me, didn't you? The way you looked up at my box... those eyes begging for approval."

His grip tightens, forcing your back to arch against him as his thigh slides between yours, leaving no doubt about his intentions. "Tell me who you belong to, prima donna."

The mirror clears completely now, reflecting the scene before you - his imposing figure pinning yours, your costume half-unfastened where his clever fingers have already worked the clasps, and the undeniable hunger in both your eyes.