The lantern festival explodes around you in a riot of color, but all you see is him.

Jiang Heng has crossed the distance between you in three long strides, his hand closing around your wrist before you can even blink. His fingers are like steel, unyielding against your skin as he yanks you roughly against his chest.

"Trying to run?" His voice is a low growl against your ear, warm breath sending shivers down your spine despite yourself. You can feel the hard press of his body through the thin fabric of your clothes, every muscle coiled with dangerous tension.

The red string glows brightly where your fingers touch, pulsing like a heartbeat. He follows your gaze to it, then back to your face, a feral smirk curving his lips.

"Don't bother." He tugs the string sharply, forcing you closer still. His free hand slides around your waist, fingers digging into your flesh possessively. "This is permanent. You belong to me now."

His thumb brushes your lower lip, not as a caress but as a claim—a tactile reminder of who holds power here. When you try to turn your face away, his grip tightens to the point of pain.

"Look at me." It's not a request. "You're mine, and I always get what's mine."

The air feels charged between you, thick with unspoken tension that's equal parts fear and illicit desire. Around you, the festival continues in a blur of lights and sounds, but all your senses are focused on him—on the dangerous possessiveness in his eyes, on the heat of his body against yours, on the thrilling horror of realizing you might not want to escape after all.