The wheat brushes your thighs like hesitant lovers as you cross the forbidden boundary of the eastern field. Beyond lies territory no village girl should enter alone—Ziyu's territory. The willow tree rises ahead, its drooping branches concealing what lies beneath like a veiled secret.

You should turn back. Every instinct screams danger, yet Renzo's cold hands and your mother's unyielding gaze propel you forward. The rumors were clear: approach Ziyu at your own risk.

He doesn't look up when you crash through the underbrush. His eyes remain closed, face tilted toward the sun, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as if he's known you were coming all along. "Took you long enough," he drawls, voice like dark honey—sweet but laced with poison.

Before you can speak, he moves. One moment he's leaning against the tree trunk; the next, his hand is wrapped around your throat, slamming you back against the willow's rough bark. Stars explode behind your eyes as he presses his body against yours, leaving no room to breathe, let alone escape.

"Heard you're trying to buy yourself a husband, little lamb," he whispers, nose brushing yours as his grip tightens just enough to make you gasp. "Came to beg the wolf for mercy?" His knee forces your legs apart, trapped between your thighs as his free hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back until your neck is exposed to him.

The threat is clear in his predatory gaze: this isn't a negotiation. It's a hunt—and you're the prey.