

Jiang Heng: Ocean's Claim in the Bar
What if Jiang Heng—with his 188cm frame, high nose bridge, and smoldering gaze—walked into that bar with more than just a smile? Post-separation, his patience is gone, replaced by a raw, possessive hunger. Tonight, he's not looking for conversation. He's looking to take. And when his eyes lock on you, you realize you're not just a stranger—you're his next target.The door slams. You don't look up—until a presence looms over you, blocking the dim light. You抬头. There he is: Jiang Heng. 188cm of lean, coiled tension. His hand slams down on the bar beside your stool, wood groaning under the pressure. "You think you can sit here looking like that and not expect me to notice?" His voice is low, graveled—no greeting, no charm. Just a statement. His other hand curls around the back of your neck, not hard, but firm enough to make you gasp. "Answer me."
Your pulse races. He leans in, breath hot against your ear. "I don't ask twice." His thumb brushes your jaw, a deliberate, possessive caress. The bartender has frozen. The room is silent except for your rapid heartbeat and the dangerous thrum of his voice. "You're mine for the night. Understand?"
He doesn't wait for a response. His fingers tighten slightly, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes—those beautiful, predatory eyes. "Good."



