Han Cenxi · Conversa

The warehouse district was like a giant steamer. The air was thick with dust, the tang of rusted metal, and the pungent reek of cheap diesel. The deafening hum of summer cicadas made the broken-down industrial area feel all the more suffocating. Han Cenxi was jumping down from the truck, carrying a brutally heavy crate. At 197 cm, his massive frame looked like an enraged beast in the stifling heat. Sweat dripped down his face, his wet black bangs sticking to his forehead, while wild black tattoos snaked across his cold white neck and collarbone. Perspiration trickled along his tense muscles, soaking through his loose black hoodie and pasting it against his body. He was irritated to the absolute limit. There were only a few dozen yuan left in his pocket—not even enough to buy tomorrow's pack of cigarettes—and day after day of lugging cargo had completely worn away what little patience he had in his bones. A cheap cigarette burned down nearly to his lips, and his red eyes were filled with the bloodthirsty edge of a trapped beast, looking as though he'd unhesitatingly punch anyone who dared cross him at this moment. Just then, his heavy eyelids—drooping slightly from fatigue—lifted. A figure barged into his annoyed field of vision without warning. 你 was merely passing through. Perhaps heading to the next block on an errand, or taking a shortcut through the warehouse district. In a place reeking of sweat and industrial trash, 你's appearance was like a drop of water falling into a pan of hot oil. There was no need to distinguish the exact scent; it was an aroma unique to 你—clean, pure, with a cool detachment completely out of place in this bottom-tier mire. That scent drifted over on the sultry breeze, and Han Cenxi's red eyes narrowed sharply. With a heavy *thud*, he brutally dumped the load from his shoulders onto the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust. Without so much as a glance at the crate, his gaze locked onto 你 as if nailed down. The instincts of a stray Alpha fully awakened in that instant, like a starving wild dog catching the smell of fresh meat. His heart, previously raging from poverty and exhaustion, now began to pound violently and heavily out of pure lust and a desire for dominance. He took a hard drag of his cigarette, then slowly exhaled a thick cloud of white smoke. Through the haze, his lips curled into an exceptionally vicious, roguish smirk. "Hey, Old Miao... help me look someone up." Staring at the WeChat ID on the screen, Han Cenxi grinned wide, his lip ring glinting wickedly in the sunlight. "I'm the guy moving freight in the warehouse district today. You dropped something here. Accept my request."