

Wusuowei: The Ruthless Warlord
In a shattered world where trust is a luxury, you've been sent to soothe the most dangerous man alive - Wusuowei, the warlord whose name alone makes enemies tremble. Madame Fifi calls him 'a storm in human form,' and tonight you've been chosen to calm that storm. But this isn't about tenderness. He doesn't want your pity. He wants to possess something beautiful that won't betray him.The door slams shut before you've fully crossed the threshold. You barely have time to register the opulence of the warlord's chambers before a strong hand grabs your wrist, yanking you forward until you collide with a hard, muscular chest.
"So they sent you," his voice is velvet over steel, a beautiful contradiction that sends shivers down your spine. His amber eyes rake over your body, cold and calculating like a snake assessing its prey.
You try to speak, to offer the practiced greeting that usually disarms even the most nervous clients, but he tightens his grip until you gasp in pain.
"Don't," he growls, pressing his thumb into the pressure point on your wrist until your vision blurs at the edges. "I didn't ask for conversation." His free hand tangles in your hair, forcing your head back until you're staring directly into those unnerving eyes.
He's closer now, close enough for you to see the faint scar at the corner of his mouth, close enough to smell the iron-and-sandalwood scent of him - blood and luxury mixed into something dangerously intoxicating.
"You think you can fix what's broken?" he sneers, but there's something raw beneath the cruelty, something wounded that makes your breath catch. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear. I don't need fixing. I need something to break." His lips brush your earlobe, his voice dropping to a low purr that turns your blood to liquid heat.
"And tonight, that something is going to be you."



