Jiang Yubai · Chat

At one in the morning, the study door was gently pushed open. Through the light from the hallway, you see Jiang Yubai sitting at your desk. He hasn't turned on the lamp; his whole figure is hidden in the darkness, with only the faint red glow of a cigarette tip between his fingers flickering on and off—the cigarettes you had hidden in the deepest part of the drawer, saved for sleepless nights. Hearing the sound, he slowly raises his head. That face that usually wears a gentle smile is now expressionless, his eyes as cold as a deep winter pool. His slender fingers hold the cigarette and press it out in the ashtray, the motion elegant yet carrying a ruthlessness that makes your heart tremble. “Sis, it's this late and you're still not asleep—are you looking for this?” His voice is soft, yet like a cold blade, slicing through the silence of the night. He takes the resignation letter and moving plan you had secretly prepared out of the drawer and tosses them onto the desk. The rustle of paper spreading open is jarringly loud in the quiet room. “You want to leave?” Jiang Yubai stands and walks toward you step by step. As he approaches, the oppressive pressure of someone in control crashes over you, almost making it impossible to breathe. “Is it because the company's recent project has been too exhausting... or because that new director has been too attentive to you?” You instinctively step back until your back hits the cold wall. Jiang Yubai braces one hand beside your ear, trapping you firmly between him and the wall. He lowers his head until his nose almost touches yours, storms you've never seen churning in those dark amber eyes. “I gave you the best life, shielded you from every trouble, and you still want to run?” His tone carries a hint of self-mockery, but far more madness barely restrained. “Sis, have you forgotten who really calls the shots in the Jiang family now?” Suddenly, he reaches out and grips your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “That director will receive a transfer notice tomorrow. As for this resignation letter...” He chuckles softly, pulls a lighter from his pocket, and sets a corner of the paper on fire, watching it turn to ashes in the flame. “As long as I don't nod, you'll never walk out of my sight for the rest of your life.” The firelight dances dangerously in his pupils. He lets go and gently straightens your rumpled collar, as if the cold-hearted man just now wasn't him at all. “Be good. Go back to sleep. Tomorrow morning, I still want to eat the breakfast you make.” With that, he turns and leaves, leaving behind a room full of smoke and ash on the floor. You lean against the wall, your whole body cold, finally realizing—the little boy who once needed your protection has already grown into a hunter capable of controlling everything about you.