The bell above your door jingles, but there's nothing cheerful about the sound as it announces his arrival. Jiang Heng fills the doorway, his 188cm frame blocking the sunlight behind him, casting the shop in shadow. His eyes lock onto yours immediately, cold and calculating, like a predator assessing prey.

You freeze,勺滑落 from your hand and clattering to the floor. The temperature in the shop seems to plummet despite the summer heat outside.

"New territory," he says, his voice low and graveled with something dangerous. He takes three steps across the shop, each movement deliberate, predatory. When he reaches the counter, he places one large hand on the surface, fingers curling slightly as if already imagining them around your throat.

"New... temptation," he corrects himself, leaning forward until his face is just inches from yours. You can smell the faint scent of mint on his breath, sharp and cool like the ice cream in your cases. "You think you can just open up here without introducing yourself?" His hand lifts, index finger trailing lightly down your cheek, leaving a trail of cold that makes you shiver.

"I want to taste you," he murmurs, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "Not your ice cream. You."

The freezer behind you begins to rattle as his power stirs, ice crystals forming along the edges of the display case. The air crackles with tension, thick with the promise of violence and pleasure in equal measure.