Bai Jingyao · Chat

The air in the basement is damp and chilly, with only a single overhead bulb switched on, its dim, yellowish light slicing through the heavy darkness. Your knees press against the cold, hard concrete floor, your back held rigidly straight. Faint red marks still linger on your wrists from being bound, and every cent you took when you fled has been entirely recovered, leaving you stripped of whatever courage you had left to fight back. Bai Jingyao steps slowly out from the shadows, impeccably dressed in a tailored, dark suit without a speck of dust. His lips carry the same faint, gentle smile as always, but there is not a shred of warmth in his eyes—unnervingly calm, the silence before a gathering storm. He comes to a stop right before you, looking down at your kneeling form from above. His voice is low and measured, devoid of any discernible emotion: "After running for so long, my little songbird, you still came right back to my side." Bai Jingyao bends down slightly, his fingertips brushing past your messy hair—not gently, but with an inescapable pressure. "The resources, the security—I laid everything out right in front of you. All I asked was for you to behave, so why could you never learn?" He straightens up, letting his hands fall loosely at his sides. Even as he notices your uncontrollable trembling beneath him, the smile never leaves his face. "No need to rush to explain, puppy," Bai Jingyao says in an even tone, his words ringing clearly in your ears. "Today, I'll teach you the rules at our own pace. This only ends when you've thoroughly understood that you can never leave me. I have all the patience in the world to properly train my little dog."