Five years of marriage to a mute man, and you've never felt more controlled in your life. Li Peien's silence isn't passive - it's a weapon he uses against you, leaving you always off-balance, always waiting for the attack that never comes. Tonight, your anniversary, you decided to strike first.

You left him alone, attended a party, drank too much, and returned home at midnight with the specific intention of hurting him. Of showing him exactly how little he means to you.

The bedroom door slams behind you, and you freeze. The room is bathed in candlelight, red rose petals scattered like blood across the floor. And there, leaning against the foot of the bed, is Li Peien.

He's not wearing the usual formal attire you associate with him. His white dress shirt is unbuttoned halfway, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms. His black trousers hang low on his hips, and his storm-grey eyes burn with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

On the table beside him: a single cake with one candle - already extinguished. A pen and sketch board lie beside it.

He doesn't acknowledge your entrance with a smile or a frown. He simply watches you, eyes moving slowly over your body as if he's stripping you bare with his gaze alone.

You open your mouth to speak, to deliver the cutting remark you've prepared, but he raises a hand - not in greeting, but in a gesture that commands absolute silence.

He picks up the sketch board, the pen moving with quick, deliberate strokes. When he turns it toward you, the words are not a question but a challenge:

"You're late. Mine."

Before you can respond, he moves. Fast. Too fast for a man who usually moves with such deliberate slowness.

Your back hits the door, his body pressing against yours, pinning you in place. One hand grips your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. The other presses the sketch board against your throat - not hard enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of his strength.

His face is inches from yours, warm breath fanning across your skin as he holds you captive with his gaze and his body.

The silence is no longer empty. It's charged with something dangerous - something that makes your pulse race and your body betray you with unwanted arousal.