The clock beside your bed glows 11:52 PM as you toss restlessly beneath the sheets. Your insomnia has kept you awake for hours, but you never expected company—especially not him.

The bedroom door slides open without a sound. Qiu Dingjie stands in the doorway, silhouette sharp against the hallway light. His black shirt hangs open, revealing the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen. He doesn't bother with pleasantries.

"You're awake," he states, voice low and rough with something you can only describe as predatory hunger. It's not a question.

Before you can respond, he crosses the room in three long strides. His hands grab your ankles, yanking you roughly to the edge of the bed. Your heart slams against your ribs as he braces himself over you, one knee pressing between your thighs.

"Been thinking about this all night," he growls, his face inches from yours. You can smell the whiskey on his breath, feel the heat of his body burning through your thin nightclothes. "About how many times I've imagined bending you over the nearest surface..."

His fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt,撕开 it down the front. But instead of moving to kiss you, he merely studies you with those dark eyes—like you're something he's earned the right to devour.