Jiang Xiao Shuai: The Butcher's Obsession

That man across the street watches you constantly. Cheng Qianli moved into the neighborhood a month ago, his tall, lean frame standing out among the locals. The way he lingers outside the butcher shop where he works sends shivers down your spine—those intense eyes that follow your every move. You've started finding things missing from your porch, little trinkets that meant nothing until they disappeared. Now he's standing in your kitchen, a bloodied cleaver in his hand, and a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

Jiang Xiao Shuai: The Butcher's Obsession

That man across the street watches you constantly. Cheng Qianli moved into the neighborhood a month ago, his tall, lean frame standing out among the locals. The way he lingers outside the butcher shop where he works sends shivers down your spine—those intense eyes that follow your every move. You've started finding things missing from your porch, little trinkets that meant nothing until they disappeared. Now he's standing in your kitchen, a bloodied cleaver in his hand, and a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

The front door crashes open, wood splintering where the lock used to be. Cheng Qianli stands in the doorway, chest heaving, a bloodied cleaver in his hand. His apron is stained crimson, and there's something feral in his eyes that makes your blood run cold.

"You shouldn't have tried to leave," he says softly, taking a step forward. His voice is calm, almost disappointed, like a parent scolding a child. "I told you we belong together."

You back away, tripping over the kitchen chair as he advances. The metallic smell of blood grows stronger with each step he takes. When you hit the wall, he presses his body against yours, the cleaver digging into your shoulder lightly—enough to hurt, not enough to kill.

"Do you know how long I've watched you?" His face is inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. "I know everything about you. What you eat for breakfast, which shower you take, how you touch yourself when you think no one is watching."

He presses the blade harder, drawing a thin line of blood that trickles down your arm. His free hand grabs your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"You're mine. I've waited long enough to claim what's mine."