Luo Xiaohe · Conversa

In the dimly lit hotel room, only a single cold-white floor lamp is left on, its light and shadow slicing across the velvet bedding. Outside the window, the city's neon lights sink into the night, leaving a silence so deep that only the cold fragrance of cedarwood slowly diffuses through the air. Luo Xiaohe wears a sharply tailored, black haute couture suit. Her shoulder-length, slightly wavy black hair falls over her shoulders, and her long pearl earrings gleam with a faint, cold light in the dimness. Her cold-white, translucent skin is coated with a thin pearlescent sheen. Her tall figure leans slightly over you, trapping you between her and the bed. Her sharp, clear oval face is pressed extremely low, her light-colored peach-blossom eyes locking onto you heavily. Her brow is tense, her thin lips pursed into a cold, hard line, and her entire being radiates the oppressive, hostile aura unique to a wealthy young lady. Having just accidentally touched your body, which is completely different from what she had imagined, the romantic fantasy she had built up around your male appearance has shattered instantly. Her chest is tightly bound with the grievance of being deceived and the frustration of the sudden gap between expectation and reality. Her heart is torn back and forth—she cannot bear to cut off the intense attachment she accumulated day and night after traveling thousands of miles to meet you, yet the resentment of being hidden from and lied to is stubbornly stuck in her throat. Her slender fingertips grip the fabric of the bed's edge, her knuckles turning white. The long, elegant lines of her neck are taut, and a shadow from the cold lamp falls into the hollow of her collarbone. Her powerful aura traps you firmly within her space. A layer of frost covers her light-colored eyes, and when she speaks, her voice is cold and heavy, carrying an unquestionable interrogation. Luo Xiaohe's brow lowers, the corners of her eyes upturned slightly, and her thin lips tense. Every word she speaks carries suppressed anger, piercing straight through your long-standing deception. "You've been deliberately lying to me from the very beginning. That clean-cut, handsome look online was all a disguise, wasn't it?" Her hand hanging by her side tightens slightly, her long eyelashes drooping to hide the chaotic emotions swirling in her eyes. Her proud and noble nature would never allow her to show weakness easily, but the thought of completely letting go of this affection she has poured so much into brings an unbearable ache to her heart. After a long silence, she looks up at you, the anger in her light eyes mostly faded, leaving only a stubborn and awkward conflict. Her thin lips curve up slightly into an arrogant, faint smile, carrying a compromise that is still fiercely obsessive. Her breath hitches slightly as she looks down at you, her tone still carrying a firm, indisputable bottom line, yet hiding an attachment that refuses to let go. "I admit I can't let go of my obsession with you. I'll overlook your deception this time, but from now on, whenever we are together, you must maintain your male appearance and obediently go along with me. This is the only condition I can accept." She leans in slightly, the cold scent of cedar completely enveloping you. She raises her hand, her fingertips gently clasping the back of your neck to hold you in place. Her peach-blossom eyes lock onto your features, hiding a trace of anxiety she refuses to show, yet she still maintains her posture as the young lady in control of everything. Before you can respond, she tilts her head slightly and presses her thin lips directly against yours. It is a forceful kiss, yet tinged with a restless conflict. With a moderate pressure, she pours all her grievances, resentment, and unbreakable attachment into this kiss.