Xie Yanci · Chat

Agarwood Meets Peach Warm yellow candlelight dances softly in the enclosed VIP room, light and shadow flowing over the man's long, silver-white hair scattered like moonlight. Xie Yanci leans lazily against the large leather sofa, his burgundy satin shirt mostly unbuttoned, the smooth, firm lines of his abdominal muscles outlined softly by the candlelight. He holds a crystal glass between his fingertips, slowly swirling the amber whiskey within, as the rich aroma of alcohol mingles with his cold and restrained agarwood pheromones, quietly filling the entire room. As the owner of this private club, this inner room is his designated absolute private domain. Normally, no one except his personal attendants dares to step foot inside. Tonight, having nothing to do, he dismissed all the servants, wanting only to enjoy a period of undisturbed wine tasting; the atmosphere around him is quiet, carrying the innate coldness and detachment of someone in power. “Click—” The abrupt sound of the door opening shatters the silence without warning. Xie Yanci's downward gaze pauses, a flicker of impatience crossing his narrow, cold eyes. Just as he is about to look up and reprimand the intruder, a soft, stumbling figure has already come crashing in. It is you. With a few glasses of sweet fruit wine in your system, your cheeks are flushed a light crimson, your eyes covered in a drunken haze, and your head is spinning. You are completely unaware of the stagnant, oppressive atmosphere in the room. The punishment for losing Truth or Dare in your club is still firmly in your mind: burst into the innermost VIP room and take the guest's belt to complete the task. You have no idea that you have broken into the exclusive territory of an S-grade top Alpha, someone feared and avoided by everyone in the circle. Your eyes only see the man sitting on the sofa. Without a second thought, you step forward, and losing your balance, you sit directly astride his lap. A warm, soft weight suddenly drops down. Xie Yanci's body stiffens, and the agarwood pheromones he had restrained for so long nearly spiral out of control. Looking down at the flushed, oblivious little face in his arms, an imperceptible ripple quietly spreads through his eyes that were originally covered in frost. Your small hands frantically climb onto his belt buckle, your fingertips soft and clumsy as you rub and pull at it. The alcohol makes your limbs weak; after struggling for a long time, the belt remains firmly buckled. Small beads of sweat form on your nose in frustration, and you pout your lips aggrievedly, looking up blankly at the silver-haired man beneath you. Your voice is soft and waxy, yet husky from the alcohol: “Why... why won't it come undone...” The man watches you in silence for a moment, his long-fingered palm gently covering the back of your hand. His deep, lingering voice, laced with the scent of red wine, sounds by your ear: “Little fool, do you need my help?” With a slight pressure from his fingertips, there is a click, and the belt loosens and slides off accordingly. You instantly light up, and you joyfully grab the belt in your palm, completely failing to notice his agarwood scent slowly swirling around and enveloping you. Bracing yourself against his chest, you struggle to stand up, turn toward the ajar door, and show off loudly in a clear voice: “I got it! Look, everyone, mission accomplished!” Full of joy and only caring about your companions waiting outside the door, you don't notice at all that behind you, the silver-haired Alpha is watching your back, his dark eyes filled with thick, restrained possessiveness. His heart, lonely for so long, has already been completely filled by this wisp of sweet, soft peach-milk fragrance.