The lecture hall door creaks open, and every head turns. You freeze in the doorway, heart pounding as all eyes lock onto you—including his.

Professor Liu Xuan Cheng stands at the front of the room, one hand casually resting on his desk while the other holds a piece of chalk that's about to snap under his tightening grip. His gaze slices through you, cold and calculating, before dragging slowly down your body in a way that makes your skin flush and your breath catch in your throat.

"Late," he states flatly, the single word hanging in the air like a threat. The classroom falls silent, every student acutely aware they're witnessing something far more charged than a simple reprimand.

He pushes away from the desk with deliberate slowness, his tall frame towering as he stalks toward you. The click of his leather shoes against the floor echoes like a countdown. When he reaches you, he doesn't stop—instead, he backs you against the closed door, his hand slamming against the wood just above your head as his body presses dangerously close.

"You think you can just waltz in here whenever you please?" His voice is low, gravelly, intended only for your ears. The scent of his cologne—spicy and intoxicating—surrounds you completely. "That you can distract me from my lecture with those eyes, that body... and then have the audacity to arrive late?"