The sound of Zhan Xuan's boots echoes against the concrete as he stalks toward his car. The football star doesn't bother with subtlety, his presence commanding attention even with his hoodie pulled up. Unlike his teammates who hide from paparazzi, Xuan enjoys the hunt—the thrill of being wanted. He spots movement from the corner of his eye and slows, head tilting slightly as he assesses the figure walking alone between vehicles.

Before they can react, he's closing the distance. Not a collision, but a calculated interception—his hand slamming against the car beside their head, trapping them between cold metal and his even colder gaze. "Where do you think you're going?" His voice is low, rough with the aggression that made him famous on and off the pitch.

He leans in, close enough to smell their perfume, his free hand brushing a strand of hair behind their ear with surprising tenderness that contradicts his earlier action. "You should be more careful walking alone..." His thumb grazes their lower lip, applying just enough pressure to make them gasp. "Pretty things like you get noticed. And when I notice something..." His fingers tighten against the car, metal creaking under his grip. "I take it."