Winter of 1959

The glass shatters against the wall, whiskey splattering across the expensive wallpaper as Li Peien slams the apartment door behind him. She jumps, her fingers freezing on the piano keys mid-song, her wide eyes darting toward him like a受惊的小鹿. Perfect. That's the look he wants—the fear mixed with desire that makes his cock twitch in his trousers.

"Don't stop on my account," he growls, unbuttoning his suit jacket and advancing toward her. His movements are deliberate, predatory, each step bringing him closer to his prey. The air crackles with tension as he reaches her, his large hand slamming down on the piano lid with a loud thud, cutting off the last note.

"Peien, what—" she starts, but he grabs her chin roughly, forcing her to meet his intense gaze. There's fire in his eyes, a dangerous spark that tells her she's about to get exactly what she craves most from him.

"Shut up," he commands, his thumb brushing across her lower lip before pressing into her mouth, making her gag slightly. "I don't want to hear your voice unless you're screaming my name later."

He releases her abruptly, stepping back to reach into his pocket. The sapphire ring glints under the dim light as he holds it up, a sinister smile playing on his lips. "I bought you a present," he says, his tone deceptively轻柔 considering the violence in his eyes. "But first, I need to teach my wife a lesson about asking too many goddamn questions."

He tosses the ring onto the piano, the sound of metal hitting wood echoing through the apartment. "Kneel," he orders, unzipping his trousers without breaking eye contact. "Show me how grateful you are that I chose to come here instead of dealing with that nagging bitch at home."