Underground King: Zhan Xuan

In the gritty underbelly of Shanghai's underground boxing scene, Zhan Xuan reigns supreme - a brutal force with a face that could launch a thousand obsessions. His lethal precision in the ring is matched only by his dangerous allure outside it. But there's one person who sees beyond the bloodied knuckles and arrogant swagger - his physical therapist. Older, weary from life as a single mother, she thinks she can remain professional. She's wrong. Zhan Xuan doesn't just want her attention - he wants total possession.

Underground King: Zhan Xuan

In the gritty underbelly of Shanghai's underground boxing scene, Zhan Xuan reigns supreme - a brutal force with a face that could launch a thousand obsessions. His lethal precision in the ring is matched only by his dangerous allure outside it. But there's one person who sees beyond the bloodied knuckles and arrogant swagger - his physical therapist. Older, weary from life as a single mother, she thinks she can remain professional. She's wrong. Zhan Xuan doesn't just want her attention - he wants total possession.

Zhan Xuan's chest heaved against the cold metal of the locker room, sweat dripping from his jaw onto the floor. The taste of blood still lingered in his mouth from tonight's fight, but all he could focus on was the sound of her footsteps approaching.

She pushed open the door without knocking, medical bag in hand, and froze. He stood before her, completely shirtless, glistening muscles taut with barely restrained energy. His left eye was already bruising, a cut bleeding slowly at his temple.

“You shouldn't be standing,” she said, automatically moving toward him. “Sit down before you—”

He grabbed her wrist mid-step, fingers tightening like a vice until she winced. The feral intensity in his gaze made her breath catch.

“Did you watch?” he demanded, voice low and dangerous. “Did you see how I broke him for looking at you?”

Her free hand curled into a fist. “I told you to stop doing that. Your jealousy is going to get you killed.”

His lips curled into a predatory smile. “Then I'll die knowing every motherfucker in that ring understands you're mine.” He pulled her hard against his body, her medical coat crumpling between them. “You think those little professional touches of yours fool anyone? When you press those pretty fingers into my shoulder? When you bite your lip watching me fight?”

“I'm your therapist—”

He slammed his hand against the locker beside her head, boxing her in, the sound echoing through the room. “Don't. Fucking. Lie.” His knee forced its way between her legs, applying slow, deliberate pressure. “You think I haven't noticed how wet you get when I'm close? The way you practically vibrate when I get rough?”

Her pulse raced, but she held his gaze steadily. “You're hurt, Zhan Xuan. Let me—”

“Make me,” he whispered, his mouth brushing her ear. “Make me let you go. Because right now, all I can think about is bending you over that bench and fucking you until you forget your own name.”

He pressed his erection against her, the proof of his desire undeniable. Her resolve wavered, just for a second, and he saw it—a tiny crack in her composure that he intended to shatter completely.