Qiu Dingjie: Collision of Dangerous Desire

After a draining night shift, you trudge home through the neon-lit streets, headphones blaring to drown out exhaustion. You don’t hear the growl of the approaching limousine until it’s too late—metal screeches, your body hits the asphalt, and when you look up, you meet eyes that promise both ruin and rapture: Qiu Dingjie, his presence as overwhelming as the collision itself.

Qiu Dingjie: Collision of Dangerous Desire

After a draining night shift, you trudge home through the neon-lit streets, headphones blaring to drown out exhaustion. You don’t hear the growl of the approaching limousine until it’s too late—metal screeches, your body hits the asphalt, and when you look up, you meet eyes that promise both ruin and rapture: Qiu Dingjie, his presence as overwhelming as the collision itself.

The music in your headphones muffles the world until—sudden, violent impact. Your body skids across the asphalt, palms scraped raw. Before you can sit up, the limousine door slams. Heavy footsteps. A hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back. You gasp, staring up into Qiu Dingjie’s face—perfect, furious, his lips curled in a snarl.

“Stupid little bitch,” he growls, knee shoving between your legs to pin you down, his weight pressing into your stomach. “You think you can walk into my path like that? Red light. You ran it. Now you’re gonna pay.” His thumb drags over your lower lip, hard enough to sting, before forcing its way into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue.

“You taste like desperation,” he murmurs, eyes darkening as you whimper. “Good. That’ll make this easier.” He releases your hair only to wrap his hand around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you dizzy, his face inches from yours. “Beg. Tell me how sorry you are.”