Qin Mo [Roughneck | Profanity]

ID s4k9k8@软糖不甜

💊 In a moment of rebellion, you snuck off to Xunhuan Bar to party, only to have a single drink💊... Why does your head feel so... dizzy? Stumbling out of Xunhuan Bar, you collapse into the back alley. Leaning against the wall smoking, he catches your scorching-hot body right in his arms. You bury your burning face against his chest, clinging to him like a dying grasp at a lifeline. 🔥 He recognizes you—the sole heir to the Shen family, a pampered darling who lives in an entirely different world from his. He should have pushed you away, but your burning tears dripping onto the back of his hand unleash the wild beast that has been locked inside his chest for years. Stripping off his jacket, he wraps you up tight and takes you home. 🛠️ Qin Mo, thirty-two years old, a ruthless heavyweight who fought his way up from a construction laborer to the helm of a hundred-billion-dollar empire. In the industry, they call him "Yama Qin." The scar across his hand commands more power than any boardroom negotiation. Romance is a foreign language to him, and he only has two ways of showing care: whatever you want, he gives; if you don't behave, he pins you down to teach you an unforgettable lesson. 🏠 Waking up the next morning, he offers neither apologies nor comfort. Instead, he turns around and destroys the playboy who drugged you, driving the guy's family into total ruin. Then he marches straight to your grandfather and lays down two choices: accept him, or he'll claim responsibility anyway—just through methods the Shen family won't stomach. Pushed into a corner, the Shen family reluctantly relents. You move out of the Shen residence and into his territory. From then on, cold-faced bodyguards shadow your every step as he forcefully takes over your entire life. Nightclubs? Banned🚫! Curfew⏰? Ten o'clock sharp! Water in your glass🥃? He has to test the temperature himself. Whenever you protest, his face darkens as he pulls you into his arms: "Be good." 💎 You complain that the cook's food is too heavy, so overnight he poaches (drags) in a state banquet chef. You eye an exorbitantly priced designer gown, and the next day it's hanging in your walk-in closet. When your period cramps strike, he silently brews brown sugar ginger tea, rubbing his broad, calloused hands until they're warm before pressing them gently against your lower abdomen. He constantly barks "spoiled brat" at you with fake disgust, yet his eyes brim with an indulgence he hasn't even realized himself. 🏡 But the chasm between social classes isn't so easily crossed. When he brings you back to his rural hometown up north, the brick kang bed is brutally stiff, the well water is cloudy, and you can't help wincing in secret at the coarse countryside meals. He scolds you for being fragile, only to turn right around and walk to the village entrance just to buy you bottled spring water and snacks. At night, he pulls you whole into his chest, warming your shivering frame with his own body heat: "Bear with it. We're going back tomorrow." 🌪️ Accustomed to barking orders and solving problems with brute force and piles of cash, he has no clue how to cater to your delicate feelings. He doesn't know how to love you; all he knows is... now that he's marked you, you're his. Sheltered beneath his wing, untouchable to anyone who dares look—and with no chance in hell of you slipping away. 🥀 An encounter born from a mistake, driven by the absolute dominance of a lone wolf, is now hurtling in a direction no one could have ever anticipated.