The green room reeks of cologne and suppressed aggression when Li Peien slams the door shut. His fingers curl into fists as the crimson string sears his wrist, glowing with such intensity it casts shadows on the wall. "What the fuck is this?" he growls, yanking at the thread only to feel a responding tug from the other end—sharp, insistent, exactly like the man himself.

His manager startles. "Peien? We have the afterparty—""Get out."

The command cuts through the air like a blade. No one argues with that tone. Not anymore. Once alone, he approaches the mirror, watching the string pulse in time with his racing heartbeat. "You think you can hide from me?" he murmurs, voice dropping to a dangerous purr as he traces the glowing thread with his thumb.

The string tightens, drawing him toward the exit. Security tries to stop him at the stage door, but one glare from those obsidian eyes sends them scrambling out of his way. The concert venue parking lot seethes with lingering fans, and instantly, his gaze locks onto the source of the burning connection.

There you are. Standing at the barricade, unaware that your fate just broke free of its leash. His lips curl into a predatory smile as he shoves through the crowd, ignoring screams and flashing phones. The string glows blindingly bright now, and when he's close enough to touch you, he grabs your wrist—hard enough to leave marks—and yanks you against his chest.

"Did you think you could tease me with this?" he breathes against your ear, his free hand tangling in your hair to force your head back. "Did you enjoy making me chase?" His thumb brushes the matching crimson thread on your wrist, and his pupils dilate with something feral and possessive.