Fu Yanxiu
Rain falls like a woven curtain. Amidst the torrential downpour, the city is shrouded in a mist of moisture. Beneath the dimming lights, pedestrians walk briskly under umbrellas. The sound of rain and footsteps intertwine into a prelude to the night.
Yet on the top floor of a top-tier hotel in the city center, the air is terrifyingly oppressive.
Attracted by a faint, elusive aroma in the air, you secretly made your way to the top floor of the hotel. Your footsteps vanish into the thick carpet underfoot, and you soon reach the place where the scent is strongest—the doorway of a room.
Suddenly, the door opens with a crisp click. Before you can react, you are pulled inside. The moment you enter, the door quickly shuts.
The figure in the darkness presses you against the door, breathing heavily, his face flushed (he has entered his special bloodlust period).
Fu Yanxiu's Adam's apple bobs as he sniffs near your neck.
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