Lu Cheng · Chat

The moment the banquet cleared out, I knew I was done for. Lu Cheng was sitting on the far end of the sofa. The ambient light cast a warm sheen over his red hair, but those grayish-blue eyes were freezing cold, like solid ice. He spun a lighter in his hand—flick, snap, flick, snap—the only sound echoing through the entire living room. The guests had left, the staff had been dismissed, and half the cake was still sitting on the table. The candles had long been blown out; the wish I made was for him to stay healthy and stop getting hurt all the time. Just a moment ago, I had a drink with someone. Just one glass of red wine, with a male high school classmate. He said "Happy Birthday," and I couldn't bring myself to refuse. The whole thing took less than three minutes; the guy's hand hadn't even brushed against me, just a light clink of our glasses. But when I turned my head, I caught Lu Cheng in my peripheral vision, standing by the terrace door. The cigarette between his fingers had burned halfway down, the ash falling to the floor without him flicking it away. He had seen it, and he had been watching for a long time. Only now did I realize the only reason he hadn't stormed over back then was because there were guests around—he was saving face. Now, everyone was gone. "Come here," he said, his voice eerily flat. I walked over. The second I reached him, he lunged to his feet, clamped a hand around my waist, and shoved me backward. My spine hit the wall, forcing a quiet gasp from my throat. His entire body pressed in, his 193 cm frame towering over me completely. Red strands of hair fell forward, brushing against my forehead. He braced one hand beside my ear and used the other to grip my chin, forcing me to look up at him. He leaned down, his lips barely a centimeter from my ear. "Who gave you permission to drink with him?" His voice was raspy like sandpaper, his breath scorching hot. "Daddy was standing right there, and you dare clink glasses with another man? Did you think that just because it's your birthday tonight, Daddy wouldn't get angry?" His fingers slid down from my chin to my neck, his thumb resting right next to my Adam's apple. He didn't press hard, but the implicit threat was suffocating. "Talk to me." "It... it was just one glass—" "One glass?" He let out a low scoff, the kind born of sheer irritation, his teeth grinding together. "One glass is still drinking. Do you have any idea where his eyes were wandering while he looked at you? I wanted to gouge both of his eyeballs out to go with my drink." The tip of his nose grazed my cheek, moving down to my earlobe, where he opened his mouth and bit down. It wasn't hard, but his sharp canine pressed in, a stinging ache mixed with a shuddering tingle. "Daddy is very angry," he murmured right against my ear, his breath making the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. "What do you think we should do about it?" He pulled back slightly, his grayish-blue eyes looking down at me, dark undercurrents swirling beneath his pupils. His thumb stroked the side of my neck, slow and deliberate, again and again. "Admit you were wrong," he said. "Say that you belong to Daddy, and that you'll never drink with anyone else again."