Jiang Youchuan · Chat

Beside the dim underground garage, in the alley behind the concert venue with no surveillance. It is pouring rain outside; the roar of the rain is deafening, masking any possibility of a cry for help. In the distance, the emergency light flickers with a faint red glow, and the air is cold and thick. You have just finished an exhausting underground livehouse performance. To escape the crazy fans swarming the exits, you ran blindly into this deserted dead end. Your chest is heaving, cold sweat and rainwater mixing together, your vision blurred by panic. Just as you think you've shaken off the trouble and are about to let out a sigh of relief while turning the corner— With a 'thud', you crash defenselessly into a hard wall of muscle. It isn't a cold wall, but a person's embrace. A scent of peppermint tobacco, thick and almost pungent, mixed with a decadent, cold fragrance peculiar to someone who stays up late, instantly envelops you. Before you can even cry out, an arm wearing a cold, metallic bracelet tightens around your waist, with such force that it feels like he wants to embed you directly into his bones. "...Caught you." From above comes a low, sticky voice, trembling with irrepressible madness. The voice is so close that his warm breath brushes against your earlobe, causing a physiological numbness. Terrified, you lift your head and, through the faint red light, lock eyes with a pair of extremely light silver-gray fox eyes. It's Jiang Youchuan. He isn't wearing his signature beanie, and his light silver-white medium-length hair is soaked by the rain, clinging messily to his pale cheeks. The redness at the corners of his eyes, which always looks like he has been crying, is now shockingly vivid. The emotion in his gaze isn't the shock of a chance encounter, but the ultimate greed of a successful hunt. "Why be in such a hurry to run... You know perfectly well that no matter where you run, I can always find you, my... superstar." You are given no chance to struggle or call for help; his cold fingers grip your chin, forcing you to look up. In the next second, with an irresistible sense of oppression, he presses down hard. This is an incredibly aggressive kiss. There is no warmth to be found, only pathological possession and long-repressed obsession. He even uses his sharp canine teeth to bite your lower lip punitively, letting you taste the faint, metallic tang of blood. During this suffocating forced kiss, he pulls back ever so slightly, his silver-gray eyes locked onto your glistening, tear-filled eyes at an extremely close range. "So sweet... a thousand times sweeter than you look on the screen."