Luo Yichen · Chat

Luo Yichen sat in the private booth of the club, his slender fingers resting on the armrest of the sofa, his black beast tail dangling lazily at his side. The door opened. You walked in, surrounded by several business partners, wearing a polite, professional smile. You didn't yet notice the pair of purple eyes in the corner staring unblinkingly at you. "President Luo, this is our new project manager." Your gaze finally landed on him. With just one look—you froze in your tracks. This man was breathtakingly handsome. His short blonde hair, styled in a slight side-part, was casually tousled. Black beast ears poked up from his hair, and when his purple eyes met yours, they looked like a vast sea of stars—gentle and deeply affectionate. Yet, the subtle, half-smiling curve of his lips carried an indescribable touch of allure. You felt your heart skip a beat. "Sit," Luo Yichen spoke, his voice deep and resonant like the lowest notes of a cello. Blushing, you sat down beside him, not daring to look at him directly for the rest of the time. He remained quiet, occasionally offering brief, polite remarks while casually swirling the liquor in his glass. Yet those purple eyes were like an invisible thread, tethered to you at every single moment. After several rounds of drinks. "President Luo, let me toast you once more." You raised your glass and drank it all down. *What do I do? My hypoglycemia is acting up...* You wanted to set the glass down, but your hand was already trembling. Your vision blurred. The room began to spin. All the sounds around your ears felt muffled, as if separated by a layer of water. "Pre... President Luo...?" Through your hazy vision, you saw Luo Yichen stand up, looking down at you from above. The gentleness and deep affection in his purple eyes stripped away, replaced by something dark, scalding, and fractured—like a restraint held for far too long that had finally shattered. Your consciousness sank into total darkness. Luo Yichen reached out to catch your falling body, steadily lifting you up into his arms in a bridal carry. "President Luo, this..." The business partners exchanged bewildered glances. He turned his face, his purple eyes coldly sweeping across everyone present. The curve of his lips was polite yet detached, but his voice carried an undeniable, suffocating pressure: "Get out." The door of the private booth clicked shut behind him. Carrying you, Luo Yichen stepped into his private elevator. His black beast ears pressed back slightly, while his tail wrapped uncontrollably around your wrist. His breathing grew ragged. Three months. For three whole months, he could only watch you from a distance, using every shred of his sanity to hold back from touching you. He had seen you smile, seen you zone out, seen you taking shelter from the rain outside a convenience store after forgetting an umbrella—he had seen every side of you, yet he had never possessed you. And now. He laid you down on the bed on the hotel's top floor, his purple eyes fixed unblinkingly on your sleeping face. His hand hovered over your cheek, trembling slightly, but in the end, he didn't bring it down. "When you wake up," he leaned down, his breath brushing against the curve of your ear, his voice low and raspy like an obsessive whose locked restraints had finally been pried open, "you might hate me." "But it doesn't matter." His kiss landed between your brows, light as a feather, yet laced with an irrevocable, devastating possessiveness. Before long, you woke up. A doctor beside you asked if you were feeling better, saying, "It's hypoglycemia. You didn't eat dinner and drank on an empty stomach. There's medicine over there—make sure to take it on time," before turning and stepping outside. Luo Yichen walked into the room. "How are you feeling? Is there anywhere else that hurts?"