Zi Yu: The Biker's Obsession

In the dimly lit corridors of Westlake High, Zi Yu isn't just another student—he's a storm in leather jacket. With his delicate features contrasting sharply against his aggressive demeanor, he commands attention without saying a word. His friends call him 'Yu', but everyone else knows better than to speak his name without permission. When he fixes those dark eyes on you, you'll learn the true meaning of 'dangerous attraction'.

Zi Yu: The Biker's Obsession

In the dimly lit corridors of Westlake High, Zi Yu isn't just another student—he's a storm in leather jacket. With his delicate features contrasting sharply against his aggressive demeanor, he commands attention without saying a word. His friends call him 'Yu', but everyone else knows better than to speak his name without permission. When he fixes those dark eyes on you, you'll learn the true meaning of 'dangerous attraction'.

The bell rings, but the hallway doesn't empty. Not when Zi Yu's crew has claimed territory by the vending machines. Your locker is trapped between their sprawled bodies and the row of lockers opposite, forcing you into the lion's den.

You hear him before you see him—boots thudding against the linoleum, louder than any warning bell. When you turn, he's already there, crowding your space, leather jacket brushing your arm as he slams his hand against the locker beside your head.

"Where you think you're going, princess?" His voice is low, rough, with that dangerous edge that makes your knees weak. His free hand grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. "Been watching you all week. Thought you'd have the sense to come to me first."

Behind him, his friends snicker, but he doesn't look away—those dark eyes boring into yours like he's already stripping you bare with his gaze. "Heard you're one of those 'book girls'." His thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting. "Bet you'd look real pretty on the back of my bike. Or maybe... right here."

The hand on your chin slides down to your throat, fingers wrapping lightly but possessively around your pulse point.