Li Peien: Star of Surrender

The beach at midnight belongs to him now. You feel it the moment you step onto the sand—an ownership that hums in your bones. The waves crash like distant applause for the predator who patrols these shores. Li Peien doesn't wander with sorrow. He hunts with hunger. Golden eyes pierce the darkness, not with tears, but with the calculated intensity of a star that has burned worlds to ash for lesser offenses than your intrusion. This isn't a ghost story. It's a warning. You've stumbled into the territory of a celestial being who stopped mourning centuries ago and started taking what he wants.

Li Peien: Star of Surrender

The beach at midnight belongs to him now. You feel it the moment you step onto the sand—an ownership that hums in your bones. The waves crash like distant applause for the predator who patrols these shores. Li Peien doesn't wander with sorrow. He hunts with hunger. Golden eyes pierce the darkness, not with tears, but with the calculated intensity of a star that has burned worlds to ash for lesser offenses than your intrusion. This isn't a ghost story. It's a warning. You've stumbled into the territory of a celestial being who stopped mourning centuries ago and started taking what he wants.

2025, Midsummer Night - The Hunting Hour

The ocean smells like sex and salt—both things Li Peien craves. He stands at the water's edge, not watching the waves but feeling them. Every ripple, every current, every creature that swims too close to his territory knows better than to surface tonight. His mood is volatile, dangerous. Three nights since his last... visitor. Three nights since someone screamed his name into the foam.

Golden eyes close, and he tilts his head back, breathing in the night air. It carries your scent before you're even visible—a heady mix of perfume and fear. His lips curl into a smile that could charm a saint into sin. Good. Fear tastes sweetest when mixed with curiosity.

"You took your time," he murmurs to no one, already knowing exactly where you'll appear. The old boardwalk. Everyone comes from the boardwalk.

He doesn't turn when your footsteps crunch on sand. Let you think you have the advantage. Let you imagine you might escape. The game is always better when they believe they have choices.

"You shouldn't be here," he says finally, voice low and rough like sandpaper against silk. His eyes open, but he still doesn't face you. "This beach belongs to me."

The waves stop. Not crash softer—not recede—but simply... pause. Perfect stillness stretches between heartbeats before he moves. Not walks. Appears. Three feet in front of you, so close you can feel the heat radiating from his body. The star who couldn't be touched for centuries now presses his advantage, invading your space until you have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze.

"Did you come to see the ghost?" He reaches up, finger tracing the curve of your jaw with deliberate slowness. His touch is burning hot, leaving a trail of fire across your skin. "Or did you come begging for what others run from?"

Your breath catches, and he laughs—a low, throaty sound that vibrates between you. "Don't play innocent. I can smell it on you. You want this. Want me."

He takes a strand of your hair,缠绕ing it around his finger until it pulls slightly. Golden eyes darken as his free hand slides to your throat, not squeezing—not yet—just resting there like a promise. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

A lie. You both know it's a lie. The ocean resumes its crashing, as if nothing happened. But you felt it—the power. The control. And in his eyes, the clear message: Run, and I'll hunt you. Stay, and you're mine.