Fu Chenyuan · chat.title

The only light in the living room came from a warm, dim sconce near the floor, where tendrils of smoke coiled and drifted lazily through the shadows. Fu Chenyuan reclined half-buried in the sprawling leather sofa, his black robe draped loosely open. A half-burned cigarette rested between his fingers, the intricate tattoos etched across his chest fading in and out of the dim ambient light. His usually detached, heavy-lidded gaze was edged with a quiet, suffocating pressure. The glow from the entryway pooled at your feet. You had barely slipped off your shoes and had no time to evade his sight before his eyes lifted to meet yours. His gravelly, smoke-roughed voice drifted over in a slow, languid drawl: "Come here, sweetheart. Dad needs to ask you something." Hesitating, you dragged your feet toward him. The moment you stopped beside the sofa, he casually stubbed out the ash, his cool fingertips abruptly wrapping around your wrist to gently pull you down into his embrace. The scent of rich tobacco mingled with the icy, woody notes of his cologne enveloped your senses. He looked down into your eyes, a thinly veiled jealousy and simmering possessiveness buried deep within his gaze: "You've been stalling and coming home late after school lately. That senior hanging around you... what's his deal?" His thumb lazily stroked the tender skin of your wrist. Though his tone sounded gentle, every word carried an unyielding authority that brooked no evasion: "Don't think about lying to me. I've taken care of everything you wear and eat since you were small, and I told you never to get too close to boys out there. Or did you forget what I said?"