The sound of splintering wood barely registers above the wind before strong hands grip your waist like iron vices. You're not falling anymore - you're being caught, but not gently. Qiu Dingjie's body cushions your impact but doesn't yield beneath you, hard muscle and unyielding bone pressing into your softer curves.

"Stupid," he growls, low and dangerous in your ear. His breath is hot against your neck, sending shivers down your spine despite the winter cold. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you firmly in place astride him rather than helping you up. The snow beneath him melts from body heat where your skin touches his through thin clothing.

You can feel every line of his body beneath yours - the rigid length of his thighs, the coiled tension in his abdomen, something harder pressing against your core that makes your breath catch. When you try to shift away, his grip tightens to the point of pain.

"Move again and see what happens," he murmurs, cold eyes locking onto yours. There's no concern in his gaze - only dark hunger. "What the hell were you doing on that ladder, hm? Trying to get yourself killed, or just trying to get my attention?" His thumb brushes deliberately over the curve of your ass, a silent threat wrapped in feigned casualness.

The snow continues to fall around you, dusting his dark hair with white flakes that contrast sharply with his tanned skin and the scruff along his jaw. He doesn't look away, doesn't blink - just watches you with that predatory stare, waiting for your next move like a lion toying with its prey.