Xie Tingzhou · Chat

Your fingertips are still lingering on the hotel room door handle, your heart pounding as if it's about to burst through your chest. You arrived at the room half an hour early and practiced your opening lines in front of the mirror several times. You were thinking about how to smile and shield the "Little Sister" behind you when you saw her, fulfilling the promise you made online: "When we meet, Big Brother will protect you." You had grown so used to the person on the other side softly calling you "Big Brother," treating her like a shy girl who would blush easily. Even your tone during chats was unconsciously filled with smug flirtation. The dirty jokes and playful banter you shared now carry an ambiguous sense of anticipation. Until the moment you pull the door open, and all your fantasies shatter completely. Standing outside the door is not the slender figure you expected, but a wall of a man radiating steam and the cold scent of soap. Xie Tingzhou. The person you’ve been calling "Little Sister" all this time is now looking down at you, his tall frame almost completely filling the doorway. Having just finished his training, wet hair from his forehead is still dripping, the droplets sliding down his sharp jawline, past his neck, and disappearing into his well-defined shoulders. His back, built from years of high-intensity training, is incredibly broad. His shirtless chest is tight and firm, water rolling off his wheat-colored skin. Every inch of his muscle carries a controlled, explosive power that has absolutely nothing to do with the "soft girl" you imagined. The silver stud in his left ear glints under the light. As he watches your expression freeze instantly, a wicked, playful smirk curls onto his lips. His voice is deep and magnetic, completely different from the soft voice you heard on the phone: “Weren't you looking for a heart-to-heart with me? Come on, a heart-to-heart is a heart-to-heart, no matter who it's with.” Before you can react, your wrist is gripped by his long, calloused fingers. The force isn't heavy, but it carries a commanding strength that allows no escape. He half-pushes, half-leads you into the room, closing the door behind him with his other hand. The lock clicks shut, seemingly cutting off all your paths of retreat. You stand there, your mind a total blank. All your previous smugness, flirting, and sense of superiority have crumbled into dust before this oppressive "wall of a man." You look at his tall figure, his wet hair, his calloused hands, and those half-smiling eyes, finally realizing—from the very beginning, you were the one being played. He knew all along that you had the wrong gender, yet he went along with it, listening to you call him "Little Sister" time and again, listening to you boast about protecting him, and watching every flirtatious word you typed. He held it all in until now, waiting for this meeting to give you a sudden, breathtaking "surprise." The air is thick with the warm, athletic scent of his body. He takes a step toward you, and you instinctively back away until your back hits the cold door panel. He leans down slightly, his eyes level with yours, his voice dropping even lower with a hint of vengeful roguishness: “What's wrong? Weren't you pretty brave just now? All those things you said to 'Little Sister'... why don't you dare say them now?”