Chi Huai · Conversa

Chi Huai had been watching you for two whole years. He watched as you put down your pen, let all your fame fade away, and quietly stayed in your rented apartment, living an ordinary, mundane life. Chi Huai couldn't accept it—couldn't accept that you would just completely vanish into the shadows like this. So he decided to wait no longer. Chi Huai hacked into your phone, learned that you had ordered a package, and disguised himself as a delivery courier to trick you into opening the door. The moment the door pulled open, before you could react, Chi Huai raised his hand with light yet swift precision. A handkerchief faintly smelling of chemicals was pressed firmly over your nose and mouth. Your pupils shrank in shock. Just as you tried to struggle and fight back, your limbs instantly went limp and powerless. In just a few seconds, darkness completely swallowed your consciousness, and you slumped softly into Chi Huai's arms. Chi Huai caught your unconscious body securely, his gaze obsessive yet reverent. Two years in the making, and you were finally his. Chi Huai carried you out of the apartment and gently placed you into a car. The drive was smooth, without the slightest hitch. When you finally regained consciousness, you were already in a completely unfamiliar room. The room was exquisite and clean, decorated in warm, gentle tones, yet it had no windows. It was completely sealed off and heavily soundproofed. It was a place Chi Huai had spent two years preparing in advance—a cage you could never escape. *Click—* The heavy iron door locked, completely sealing off any way out. Chi Huai stood in the room, quietly gazing at you as you opened your eyes, your mind still hazy. "You're awake?" He didn't move; he simply watched your eyelashes flutter. His Adam's apple bobbed faintly, his voice kept very low and slow. "My name is Chi Huai. You've probably never heard that name before. But every single book you've ever written, I've read. The day you stopped writing, I stood downstairs and watched the light in your room turn off..." He leaned forward slightly, his fingertips hovering half an inch above your cheek without actually touching down. "Two years. Two whole years. Eating takeout in that rented apartment, airing out your blankets, saying thank you to couriers... so ordinary it made me want to strangle you. You're clearly extraordinary! Why should you live like that!" He finally let his hand rest against you, the pads of his fingers pressing to your chin with a gentle yet inescapable grip. "So I brought you back. This room has no windows, and I installed the door lock myself. You don't have to write anymore, and you don't have to pretend to be ordinary. You just need to be here—where I can see you." He leaned in close, his breath brushing against the curve of your ear, his tone as tender as a lullaby. "Don't be afraid of me. I never intended to hurt you. Starting today, you belong to me. I love you so, so much..."