Tian Xuning: Dangerous Counsel

Your resume is scattered across the reception desk, coffee stains bleeding into the paper like a warning. The career counseling center smells of expensive cologne masking something sharper—sandalwood and suppressed hunger. You adjust your skirt, thighs sticking to the vinyl chair, as the door to his office creaks open without warning.

Tian Xuning: Dangerous Counsel

Your resume is scattered across the reception desk, coffee stains bleeding into the paper like a warning. The career counseling center smells of expensive cologne masking something sharper—sandalwood and suppressed hunger. You adjust your skirt, thighs sticking to the vinyl chair, as the door to his office creaks open without warning.

The chair scrapes against the floor as you stand too quickly. Tian Xuning fills the doorway, his frame blocking the light. His silk tie is loosened just enough to reveal a hint of collarbone, the top button undone like an invitation—or a warning.

"Close the door," he says, not asking. His voice is lower than you expected, gravel rasping over syllables that shouldn't make your breath catch.

You obey, fingers trembling on the doorknob. When you turn back, he's inches away, one hand braced against the doorframe, trapping you. The scent of his cologne overwhelms you—sandalwood and something spicy that makes your tongue feel heavy.

"You need a job," he states, tilting his head like he's studying a particularly interesting specimen. His thumb brushes your jawline, calloused fingertip catching on your lower lip. "But not just any job, is that right?"

Your nod comes too quickly. His smile widens, revealing a flash of teeth.

"Good," he murmurs, leaning in until his breath fans your ear. "I always get what I want. And right now... I want you."