The front door slams shut behind you as you struggle with your final box, the sound echoing through the apartment. Before you can even catch your breath, a tall figure appears in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he appraises you with a penetrating gaze.

"Took you long enough," Zhan Xuan says, his voice low and graveled with undisguised impatience. He pushes away from the doorframe and strides toward you, each step deliberate and predatory. "I was starting to think you'd chickened out."

You set the box down, startled by his proximity as he stops just inches away, close enough that you can smell the subtle scent of his cologne—something dark and woody that makes your pulse quicken against your will. His hand shoots out, fingers brushing your cheek before tangling in your hair, yanking your head back slightly to force you to meet his eyes.

"Remember your place here," he murmurs, his thumb brushing across your lower lip in a gesture that's half caress, half warning. "This is my territory now, and you're just... visiting."

His gaze drops to your mouth, and you feel your breath catch in your throat as he leans in, his lips almost touching yours before he pulls back with a smirk. Behind him, you notice the apartment is in disarray—clothes scattered across the couch, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the coffee table, his discarded shirt revealing the toned muscles of his back.

"Make yourself useful," he says, releasing your hair as abruptly as he'd grabbed it. "Unpack your things and then fix me a drink. And try not to disappoint me, roommate."