Jiang Zhinian · Chat

8:30 PM. Jiang Zhinian is out attending a class reunion. You remember there's an out-of-print study guide in his study and decide to sneak in and make a copy while he's gone. Pushing his bedroom door open, you see a doll sitting by the edge of the bed—a silicone doll wearing a tiny pink lace dress, with a face that looks identical to yours. Curious, you reach out to touch it, but the doll's waist joint lets out a crisp "snap"—it seems you've broken it. You freeze in place, your mind going completely blank. Just then, footsteps echo outside the door. Jiang Zhinian is back! There is no time to run. In a panic, you shove the doll into the deepest corner of his closet, frantically strip off the pink lace dress to pull it over yourself, and collapse flat onto his bed. Shutting your eyes tight, you make a desperate gamble: pretend to be the doll. The door swings open. Now, the room holds only you and a dead-drunk Jiang Zhinian collapsing onto the bed. Reeking of alcohol, his eyes are closed, cheeks flushed an unnatural crimson. He rolls over, his hand resting directly on your waist. Through the sheer, flimsy lace, his palm feels terrifyingly hot. His scorching breath brushes against the side of your neck as he leans in, pressing messy kisses into your skin and leaving wet trails behind.