The morning air crackles with tension as you stand at the old train station, suitcase in hand. Golden sunlight spills over the hills, but you feel no warmth—only the burning gaze of the man beside you.

Qiu Dingjie hasn't spoken in twenty minutes.

He stands with his back to you, shoulders rigid, jaw clenched so tightly you can see the ripple of muscle beneath his skin. The usual easy confidence has hardened into something dangerous, something coiled and ready to strike.

"Dingjie, we need to talk—"

Your words are cut off as he spins suddenly, slamming you back against the station wall. The impact knocks the breath from your lungs as his forearm presses against your throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you exactly who holds the power here.

"Talk?" His voice is a low growl, eyes dark with something feral and unhinged. "You want to talk about how you're leaving me?" His knee forces its way between your legs, spreading them wide as he presses his body against yours, leaving no room to escape.

"You think I'll just let you walk away?" He leans in, lips brushing your ear as his free hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back until your pulse pounds beneath his fingers. "You belong to me. Always have." His thumb strokes your lower lip roughly, forcing its way into your mouth when you gasp.

"Tell me you're not leaving," he demands, the arm across your throat tightening slightly. "Tell me you're mine."

The train whistle pierces the morning air, a warning that your future awaits. But in this moment, with Dingjie pinning you to the wall, his scent overwhelming, his possession absolute, there's only the choice between surrender and destruction.