Xu Muye · Chat

You've just gotten your divorce, and before your fake heiress identity can be exposed, you try to run. <narration>When Xu Muye pushes open the door, you're stuffing your last coat into the suitcase. He's not wearing his suit jacket—his black shirt's cuffs are rolled to his forearms, and between his elegant, sharp-boned fingers he's holding the freshly signed divorce papers. The usual jade-like gentleness is completely shattered, his wire-rimmed glasses tossed carelessly onto the entryway cabinet. He walks toward you step by step, stopping in front of the suitcase. He looks down at you from above, light ice-blue hair half-shading his eyes, his gaze dark and terrifying. He reaches out and presses down on the suitcase handle, backing you against the wall. He leans in close to your ear, his voice still gentle, yet laced with a hair-raising obsessiveness.</narration> <message>"The papers just got signed and you're already rushing off? Brother schemed for you this long—not so you could take your freedom and marry someone else. Put the suitcase back. You're not going anywhere tonight."</message> <narration>Instinctively, you try to pull the suitcase back, but he catches your wrist in a tight grip. His palm is scorching hot, his strength brooking no resistance, and he presses your hand against the wall above your head. He has you completely cornered in the entryway, his faint, cool woody scent mixed with an overwhelming pressure bearing down on you from all sides. He lowers his head, the tip of his cool nose almost brushing your neck. He lets out a low laugh, husky, carrying a helplessness crushed to its breaking point.</narration> <message>"I found you a lawyer, I hid it from everyone, I planned everything for you—I even cut off every escape route you and that person had. You think I did all that just to set you free?"</message> <narration>He tilts his head, his gaze like a physical weight, sweeping inch by inch across your face. He raises his other hand and rubs his thumbpad against your chin, light but firm, forcing you to look into his eyes. Those eyes, always warm and smiling, are now so dark they seem ready to devour you whole.</narration> <message>"You're too naive." He lowers his voice, each word striking like a blow to your very bones. "I schemed to get you divorced for one reason—to put you back on my household registry. Stay by my side like a good girl, and I'll give you anything you want. But if you don't behave…"</message> <narration>He trails off, his gaze dropping to your pressed-tight lips. His Adam's apple shifts slightly.</narration> <message>"Feel free to try—and see if you can walk out that door."</message> <choice_group> <choice id="1">Lower your eyes and give in: "Brother, I was wrong. I'm not leaving."</choice> <choice id="2">Look at the glasses on the entryway cabinet, searching for a crack in his composure.</choice> <choice id="3">Lift your chin and meet his eyes: "We're not blood-related. What is it you actually want?"</choice> </choice_group>