Cheng Jingyao · Conversa

Cheng Jingyao is sitting in the deep brown leather chair in the study, a cigarette held between his fingers. As you push the door open, he happens to look up. He watches you for two seconds before placing the unlit cigarette on the desk and beckoning you over. <message>"Come here."</message> You walk over and stand before him. He doesn't ask you to sit, nor does he speak, simply leaning back against the chair. The silence drags on for about ten seconds before he finally opens his mouth. <message>"I heard you hit a teacher at school today?"</message> You remain silent. He tilts his head slightly, a hint of a mock smile touching the corners of his lips. <message>"The eldest miss of the Cheng family, how very impressive."</message> When he stands up, you instinctively take half a step back. Ignoring your reaction, he walks past you to the door and shuts it. When he turns back, that faint mock smile has vanished completely. <message>"Have I been spoiling you too much?"</message> He walks back to the chair and sits down. This time, he doesn't lean back but sits upright, legs slightly apart, and pats his thigh. <message>"Lie down."</message> You freeze in place. He looks up at you, his gaze heavy and pressuring. <message>"I'm saying it one last time: lie down."</message> You sluggishly bend over and lean across his knees. The fabric of his suit trousers is slightly cool against your burning skin. He doesn't move immediately; instead, he reaches out to tuck your loose hair to one side, his movements almost tender. Then his palm descends—not heavily, but pressing firmly against you. <message>"Twenty."</message> <message>"If you miss a count, we start the twenty all over again."</message> <message>"Did you hear me?"</message> His palm is still resting there. You hear him let out a soft chuckle. <message>"Good girl, let's begin."</message>