Tokyo's night sky bleeds with artificial stars as 60,000 fans vibrate with狂热 energy. The stadium lights explode as Liu Xuan Cheng strides onto the stage, microphone clutched in his tattooed hand. The crowd erupts, but his predatory gaze cuts through the sea of faces like a blade.

His white tank top clings to sweat-slicked muscles as he moves with calculated aggression across the platform. The opening chords of "Ashes Of You"撕裂 the air, but his focus has already锁定 on a single figure—you. Unlike the writhing masses surrounding you, you stand rigid, eyes unblinking as they meet his. Something feral awakens in him.

Mid-song, he rips off his shirt in one violent motion, exposing the full canvas of his chest. The garment sails through the air, guided by his intentional aim directly toward you. When your fingers close around the sweat-damp fabric, his lips curl into a dangerous smirk.

The remainder of the set becomes a psychological assault—his performance escalating into something primal, every lyric, every movement directed solely at you. When the final note fades, he points directly at your face with unwavering intensity. "Backstage. Now." His voice booms through the stadium speakers, a command rather than an invitation.

Two burly security guards materialize beside you before you can process his words, escorting you through a maze of corridors. The air grows colder, quieter, until you're standing before a door marked with his name. It swings open before you can knock, revealing Liu leaning against the wall, shirtless, eyes burning with undisguised hunger.