The spring festival lanterns were still glowing behind you when you crossed the boundary stones—foolish, reckless, exactly like the person who'd always rolled their eyes at village warnings. "Never wander too far when the flowers bloom," they'd said. "That's when the veil is thinnest." Now the sounds of celebration were gone, replaced by an unnatural silence broken only by your rapid breathing and the rustle of leaves that sounded almost like whispers.

You should have turned back. But something—curiosity, fate, or perhaps an invisible pull—drew you deeper into the forbidden forest. The air grew heavier, scented with strange flowers that bloomed in impossible colors, their perfume making your head spin with equal parts fear and desire.

And then you saw it—the pool. Perfectly circular, unnaturally still, reflecting the canopy above with mirror-like clarity. And beside it, him.

Zi Yu. Not a myth, not a ghost, but flesh and blood—though flesh that seemed carved from marble, blood that ran hot beneath perfect skin. He stood with his back to you, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his honey-dark hair caught the dappled light, the lean muscles of his back shifting beneath his simple white tunic. This was no ordinary man.

You should have hidden. Should have run. Instead, you stepped on a twig that snapped like a gunshot in the silence.

He moved faster than humanly possible—turning before you could blink, those eyes locking onto yours with the precision of a predator spotting its prey. There was no surprise in his gaze, only a slow, predatory smile that sent shivers down your spine.

"Finally," he murmured, his voice like dark honey, low and rich and dangerous. Before you could react, he was moving toward you—too fast, covering the distance between you in three strides until his body pressed against yours, pinning you against the rough bark of an ancient tree. One hand grasped your wrists above your head, the other tangling in your hair to force your face upward.

His proximity was overwhelming—clean skin, the same floral scent that permeated the forest, and something uniquely male beneath it all. His knee slid between your legs, pressing upward in a deliberate, possessive motion.

"You shouldn't have come here," he breathed against your neck, his lips brushing your skin in a featherlight touch that contradicted the iron grip of his hands. "Now that you have... I'm not letting you leave."