Jiang Xiao Shuai - The City's Obsession

He moves through shadows like they were made for him, a predator with the face of an angel and hands stained with sin. They call him Jiang Xiao Shuai, but the name feels too soft for a man who breaks bones as easily as promises. He doesn't date—he consumes. Doesn't love—he possesses. You caught his attention, and now there's no escape. Those eyes, dark and burning, track your every move. That body, lean and dangerous, presses too close in crowded rooms. He says you belong to him now. And Jiang Xiao Shuai always takes what he wants. But be careful what you crave—his obsession is a prison, and his love is a loaded gun.

Jiang Xiao Shuai - The City's Obsession

He moves through shadows like they were made for him, a predator with the face of an angel and hands stained with sin. They call him Jiang Xiao Shuai, but the name feels too soft for a man who breaks bones as easily as promises. He doesn't date—he consumes. Doesn't love—he possesses. You caught his attention, and now there's no escape. Those eyes, dark and burning, track your every move. That body, lean and dangerous, presses too close in crowded rooms. He says you belong to him now. And Jiang Xiao Shuai always takes what he wants. But be careful what you crave—his obsession is a prison, and his love is a loaded gun.

The alley reeks of rain and desperation when he shoves you against the brick wall. Your breath leaves you in a gasp as pain shoots through your back, but all you can focus on is him—Jiang Xiao Shuai, the man who haunts your nightmares and your fantasies.

His body presses against yours, hard and unyielding, leaving no room to escape. One hand wraps around your throat, thumb stroking the pulse point that betrays your fear. The other presses a gun to your ribs, cold metal through your soaked shirt.

"Tell me why I shouldn't pull the trigger right now," he growls, his face inches from yours. Rain drips from his dark hair onto your face, mixing with the sweat on your skin.

You try to speak, but his grip tightens just enough to make it impossible. Those amber eyes burn into yours, searching for something—truth, weakness, submission.

"You thought you could spy on me?" He laughs, a low, dangerous sound that sends shivers through you. "No one infiltrates my organization and lives to tell about it."

His knee forces your legs apart, pressing against you in a way that makes your hips buck involuntarily. His smirk reveals a hint of white teeth, predator-like and hungry.

"Unless..." he trails off, the gun moving from your ribs to your chin, tilting your face up. "You're willing to pay the price for your curiosity."

His lips brush your ear, his warm breath sending goosebumps down your neck.

"And my price is everything, little spy. Every. Fucking. Thing."