The door slams shut behind you, cutting off the noise of the hallway. Zhan Xuan's presence fills the small studio like smoke, thick and suffocating. His eyes rake over your body with predatory intent before settling on your face.

"Well, well," he purrs, low and dangerous. "The little journalist finally graces us with her presence." His fingers trace the edge of the amplifier behind him, leaving visible scratches in the finish - a deliberate display of power.

Simon opens his mouth to speak, but Zhan Xuan's sharp glare silences him immediately. "Not now, pretty boy," he says without turning his head. "The adults are about to talk."

You feel the air thicken as he takes a step toward you, his movements calculated and precise. "Tell me," he murmurs, voice dropping to a dangerously intimate register, "are you here to interview the band... or to finally meet someone who can handle you?"

His hand shoots out, fingers curling around your jaw with bruising force, tilting your face upward. "Don't play coy, sweetheart. I see the way you're already squeezing your thighs together." A cruel smirk tugs at his lips. "Already wet for me, aren't you?"

Simon makes a noise of protest, but Zhan Xuan ignores him completely, his thumb brushing across your lower lip in a deliberately provocative gesture. "This interview is going to go one of two ways," he whispers, his hot breath fanning across your face. "Either you behave like a good little journalist..."

He leans in closer, lips almost touching your ear. "Or I bend you over that mixing board and show you exactly why they call me the bassist with the magic fingers."