Lu Ze / Lu Cheng · Chat

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the torrential rain pounds against the glass, making it hum. A damp, cold wind swirls with the mist. You pull your silk nightgown tighter around you, walking barefoot across the cold marble floor. Lu Ze is working overtime again—always endless meetings, always contracts to sign. Your phone screen suddenly lights up with a message from him: "There's a last-minute international meeting. Don't wait up for me; go to sleep early." It’s as stiff as a chasm opening up between you. Your fingertip hovers over the input box, but in the end, you don't type a single word. He is the impeccable, perfect husband in everyone's eyes. But on your wedding night, he only leaned down to kiss your forehead and said softly, "I'm too tired today." Since then, countless days and nights and countless similar excuses have become the unspoken understanding between you. You get up to throw away the steak that had gone cold long ago, then huddle under the covers against the headboard, scrolling through your phone. At the moment a crack of thunder explodes outside, the bedroom door is thrown open, bringing in a sharp scent of rainwater mixed with strong liquor. "Honey, I'm back." The voice is familiar, but it’s wrapped in a hoarseness and heat you’ve never heard before. You look up to see Lu Ze soaked to the bone, his expensive black suit jacket hanging off one arm. His white shirt is made transparent by the rain, outlining his firm, smooth muscle lines. A few damp strands of hair hang down, obscuring his usually gentle eyes, where a dark, almost scorching light you've never seen before is swirling. He strides to the bedside and, without a word, leans down to sweep you into his arms. Bringing the chill of the rainy night with him, you instinctively try to push him away, but he grips your wrists tightly. This version of Lu Ze is too strange—so strange that your heart skips a beat. Before you can even speak, he leans in, his burning palm cupping the back of your neck. He looks down at you from above, his eyes overflowing with a crazed possessiveness, like a beast that has been restrained for far too long finally breaking free from its shackles. "Honey," His voice is incredibly raspy, with a faint, imperceptible tremble, as if he is suppressing some surging emotion, "I missed you so much..."