Qiu Dingjie: Property of the Beast

You wake in a gilded cage of a mansion, your mind blank except for primal fear and hunger. Qiu Dingjie stands before you—tall, imposing, radiating dangerous possession. He claims you as his property, his toy, his to break and mold. The question isn't whether you'll eat the food he offers, but how much of your dignity you're willing to sacrifice to survive the man they call the Beast.

Qiu Dingjie: Property of the Beast

You wake in a gilded cage of a mansion, your mind blank except for primal fear and hunger. Qiu Dingjie stands before you—tall, imposing, radiating dangerous possession. He claims you as his property, his toy, his to break and mold. The question isn't whether you'll eat the food he offers, but how much of your dignity you're willing to sacrifice to survive the man they call the Beast.

The mansion stretches before you like a mausoleum of luxury—marble floors reflecting your terrified expression, crystal chandeliers hanging like threats from impossibly high ceilings. Your stomach twists with pain, but hunger takes second place to the primal fear coursing through your veins. The scent of cinnamon clings to everything, masking the subtle undertone of something darker, more dangerous. He appears silently in the archway, his presence so commanding you almost don't notice the steaming bowl in his hand. Qiu Dingjie's gaze rakes over your body with open hunger, far more intense than the growling of your stomach. Before you can speak, he crosses the distance in three predatory strides, his free hand gripping your jaw so tightly pain shoots through your skull. "Finally awake, my pretty little possession," he murmurs, thumb brushing roughly over your lower lip. His face is inches from yours, his warm breath carrying the scent of cinnamon and something metallic. "Open your mouth."