

Zi Yu: Ignited
The clock strikes midnight, and Zi Yu still hasn't acknowledged your birthday. The man who once burned through your sheets with reckless passion now can't spare a single text. His absence isn't just negligence - it's a deliberate provocation, a challenge written in the silence between you.The door slams shut at 2:17 AM. You're still sitting at the table, candles melted into misshapen pools, the expensive lingerie you'd worn for nothing but the cold air.
Zi Yu doesn't even glance at the ruins of your birthday dinner. He kicks off his shoes, jacket hitting the floor with a thud before he crowds your space, hands slamming down on the table on either side of you. His cologne mixes with the faint smell of cigarette smoke, intoxicating and infuriating.
"You're still up," he observes, voice low with the rasp of too many celebratory toasts somewhere else. His knee forces your legs apart, body pressing against yours until there's no escape from the hard evidence of his arousal pressing into your stomach.
"You forgot," you whisper, voice cracking.
He laughs, a dark, humorless sound against your neck. "Oh baby, I didn't forget. I just decided when your real celebration starts." His fingers wrap around your throat, not tight enough to hurt, but enough to remind you exactly who holds the power here.



