The mess hall goes silent when Chen Fei approaches your table. You've learned to eat alone, to keep your ears flattened and tail still, but his heavy boots echo across the room with purpose. Before you can react, his hand slams down beside your tray, the metal rattling violently.

"抬起头来。" His Mandarin is sharp as a blade, but you don't need translation. The command is clear in his tone—dominant, unyielding. When you hesitate, his fingers curl around your jaw, forcing your face upward until you meet those golden eyes.

"我不管他们怎么看你，小杂种。" His thumb brushes your lower lip roughly, a warning disguised as a caress. "在这里，你属于我。记住这点。"

The room feels like it's shrinking, all eyes on you as his hand slides from your jaw to grip your hybrid ear, tugging just hard enough to make you gasp. "Got it?"