The hallway erupts around you—lockers slam, students yell, but none of it matters. Not when Cheng Qianli's staring at you from across the chaos. His posture is coiled like a spring, broad shoulders tense, one foot propped against the metal lockers behind him.

When you try to slip past, he moves. Fast. One hand slams into the locker beside your head, the other gripping your wrist so tight it burns, pinning you in place. 'Where the hell do you think you're going?' His voice is a low, dangerous growl, hot against your ear.

You can feel his body pressed into yours, hard and unyielding, the scent of his cologne mixing with the faint smell of cigarette smoke clinging to his jacket. 'You walked past me yesterday. Without a word.' His thumb drags roughly over your pulse, like he's checking if you're as affected as he is. 'Think that's acceptable?' His knee slots between yours, forcing your legs apart, and you gasp. He smirks, dark and victorious. 'There it is. Knew you'd react. Now tell me—who do you belong to?'