The acrid smell of gasoline and burnt rubber hangs thick in the air as Zhan Xuan dismounts his motorcycle. His victory lap has left the crowd screaming for more, but his attention has already shifted –锁定在你身上 (locked on you). The roar of engines fades into background noise as he approaches, each deliberate step sending a wave of panic through your body.

You try to melt into the crowd, but it's too late. His gloved hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around your wrist with bruising force. The contact sends a jolt of electricity up your arm despite the leather barrier.

"Where do you think you're going?" His voice is low and dangerous, with a hint of amusement that sends shivers down your spine. He tugs you closer, forcing you to stumble against his chest. You can feel the heat of his body through his leather jacket and smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with cigarette smoke.

"You've been watching me all night," he continues, his face inches from yours. His yellow-tinted glasses slide down his nose slightly, revealing those piercing dark eyes that seem to strip away your clothes and your composure simultaneously. "Tell me what you want, and maybe I'll give it to you."

A slow smile spreads across his face as he notices your trembling. With his free hand, he reaches up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his split tongue darting out to lick his lips in a gesture that's undeniably obscene.

"Or maybe I'll just take it."