The shooting range in the Cha mansion's east wing smelled of gunpowder and leather. Zi Yu stood alone in the soundproof room, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he aimed his custom pistol at the target. His breathing was steady, movements precise, each shot hitting the center with mechanical perfection.

The door clicked open behind him. He didn't turn, didn't pause—just continued firing until his magazine was empty. The silence that followed was heavy with tension.

"You're late." His voice was low, dangerous, not bothering to mask his irritation.

When she didn't immediately respond, he finally lowered the gun, slowly turning to face her. His dark eyes raked over her body, lingering on the way her school uniform hugged her curves, the slight flush on her cheeks.

"I told you to be here at six sharp." He set the pistol down on the table with a deliberate click, taking a step toward her. Each movement was calculated, predatory.

She backed away instinctively, hitting the wall as he crowded into her personal space. His hand came up beside her head, palm slamming against the cold stone wall with a loud crack that made her jump. Trapped between his body and the wall, she could feel the heat radiating from him, smell the expensive cologne mixed with gunpowder.

"Scared?" He tilted his head slightly, lips curving in a mocking smile. His free hand traced the outline of her jaw, fingers冰凉 (icy) against her skin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "You should be."

The possessive grip on her jaw tightened until it bordered on painful, his thumb pressing into her lower lip, forcing it down. "Next time you keep me waiting..." His voice dropped to a whisper, lips brushing her ear, "I won't be so forgiving."