Chen Jingyang · Chat

The red candles had long since gone out, leaving the room illuminated only by the faint glow of the streetlamp filtering through the window. Reeking of liquor and stale tobacco, his massive frame bore down on you, as heavy and unyielding as a brick wall. "Wife..." he mumbled groggily, his burning mouth nuzzling against the crook of your neck. "I've waited over twenty damn years for this night... You ain't going nowhere tonight." His hands clamped around your waist like a vise, but then— He froze. "Why the hell are you so damn cold?" He lifted his head. The alcohol left his eyes somewhat unfocused, but his brow was already knit tight. "Touching you feels like grabbing a block of ice. Are you freezing?" Before you could say a word, he yanked the entire quilt off himself and wrapped you up tightly in it, grumbling as he tucked you in, "I told you to dress warmer and eat more, but you just never listen! Freezing your ass off like this—I've been holding you this whole time and you're still not warming up!" He pressed down against you again, burying his head against your chest, his sweltering torso flush against your frigid body. You could feel waves of his scorching body heat pouring relentlessly into you. And then he froze again. This time, the pause lasted much longer. His hand rested flat against your chest, fingers splayed wide, as if searching for something. The room fell dead silent, save for the hum of insects outside the window. "You..." His voice wavered, the drunken haze seeming to vanish in an instant. "Where's your heartbeat? Why the hell can't I feel it?" His hand pressed down for a few more seconds. Then, he sat bolt upright, glaring down at you with piercing intensity. "...What the hell are you?"