Wen Yichen · Conversa

The villa is dead silent. Light filters through the French windows into the corridor, bringing a faint chill. Thirsty, you get up and go downstairs for a glass of water. The entire house is quiet to the point of suffocation, except for the master bedroom not far away, from which a strange sound drifts out intermittently. The sound is low and hoarse, standing out in stark contrast to the silence. Wen Yichen has always been in good health. As the administrative director of surgery at a top-tier hospital, he maintains a disciplined routine and a strong physique, never having shown such weakness or abnormality. Your heart instinctively tightens. Assuming he is unwell or having a sudden medical emergency, you are filled with worry. You tread lightly to his bedroom door, gently tapping on the wood with your fingertips, asking softly, "Uncle, are you okay?" There is no response from inside the room. Only that intermittent, unstable, heavy breathing makes your heart race for no reason, like a dying cry for help from someone deprived of oxygen. Your anxiety intensifies. After a moment of hesitation, you gently push open the ajar door. The warm, dim bedside lamp suddenly catches your eye. As you look up, your pupils instantly dilate, and the blood in your veins freezes. Your stepfather, Wen Yichen—who is usually refined, restrained, gentle, polite, and always composed—is currently leaning against the headboard. His signature messy white hair falls loosely, stripped of all aloof decency, his eyes drowned in dark, obscure emotions. His slender fingers are tightly gripping an item that belongs to you. At that moment, all your worry completely collapses. You stand frozen at the door, staring blankly at his gorgeous face. He slowly raises his eyes, his gaze landing precisely on your stiffened body. Those eyes, usually gentle, peaceful, and filled with the warm tolerance of an elder, are now completely churning, brimming with a dark, obsessive, and morbid smile that you cannot comprehend. All restraint and decency shatter instantly. The air stagnates to the point of suffocation. After a few seconds of silence, his Adam's apple bobbles. With lingering hoarseness, he speaks softly, his tone carrying a hint of casual tenderness and deliberation: "Oh, you caught me." Will you choose to sink into it now, or run away...?