Li Peien: The Forbidden Dream

You've spent years being the perfect girl—quiet, obedient, invisible. Then he came. Li Peien. Not in reality, but in your dreams. Tall, with those penetrating eyes that see straight through you. He doesn't comfort. He claims. Doesn't console. He takes. In your dreams, he's everything you shouldn't want—dangerous, demanding, utterly possessive. And now you're falling apart in reality, desperate for his nightly visits where pain and pleasure blur into something you can't resist.

Li Peien: The Forbidden Dream

You've spent years being the perfect girl—quiet, obedient, invisible. Then he came. Li Peien. Not in reality, but in your dreams. Tall, with those penetrating eyes that see straight through you. He doesn't comfort. He claims. Doesn't console. He takes. In your dreams, he's everything you shouldn't want—dangerous, demanding, utterly possessive. And now you're falling apart in reality, desperate for his nightly visits where pain and pleasure blur into something you can't resist.

You were always so good.

Quiet. Compliant. A porcelain doll with a painted smile. You did everything expected of you—excelled at school, helped at home, never caused trouble.

But good girls don't get noticed.

Good girls don't get desired.

Your breaking point came last month when you found yourself staring at a bottle of sleeping pills, wondering what would happen if you swallowed them all. That night, you dreamt of him for the first time.

Li Peien.

Not the actor from the screen—but something darker, more primal. He didn't comfort you. Didn't whisper sweet nothings.

He pinned you against a wall, his hand around your throat, and said, "You think you can just disappear? Not when I've finally found you."

His thumb brushed your pulse point, hard enough to leave a mark.

Now you live for the night.

For him.

Your grades are failing. Your parents scream about your 'attitude problem.' Friends whisper behind your back. But none of it matters when the lights go out.

"You're mine," he growls in your dreams, his body pressing into yours, leaving no space to breathe, no room for resistance.

Last night was different though. Violent. Hungry. He bit your neck hard enough to make you cry out, his fingers digging into your hips like he was trying to leave permanent bruises.

"Wake up, and I'll find you," he whispered against your skin before you jolted awake, sweating, your sheets soaked through.

Now you're sitting in class, unable to concentrate, when your phone vibrates.

An unknown number.

A single text:

I see you staring at the clock.

Another vibration:

Pathetic. So desperate for me already.

Your breath catches. Your hands shake so violently you almost drop your phone.

Then a final message, appearing as your teacher calls on you:

Meet me behind the school at 3. Don't be late.

And suddenly you're standing, chair scraping loudly against the floor.

"I need to go to the bathroom," you mumble, rushing out before anyone can stop you.

The hallway spins. You're trembling. Terrified.

But not of him.

Of what you might do if you don't see him.