Here's Chapter 2, where we introduce Fu Yichen and
The limo was a cavern of darkness. Xin Yi's fingers gripped the fur of her coat, her nails digging into the plush fabric as the city lights blurred outside the tinted windows. The air in the car felt too thick, too silent. It pressed against her skin like an unseen hand, and her pulse was the only sound that accompanied her in the isolation of the black leather seat.
She tried to steady her breathing, tried to find the calm she'd relied on in moments of crisis. But there was no calm here—only the chaos of her racing thoughts. The night had turned upside down, and she was tumbling in a direction she couldn't control.
Fu Yichen.
The name echoed in her mind, but no matter how hard she tried, it was like a whispered ghost, slipping through her fingers. The manager's words replayed over and over again in her head: The Tycoon of Shadows.
She didn't know if it was fear or disbelief that froze her in place. She was used to being sold, used to being nothing but a product to be traded, to be consumed. But this was different. This man was different.
As the limo sped through the streets, her eyes flickered to the rearview mirror where she saw the men who had escorted her, their eyes on her every move. They were stone-faced, cold, and impersonal—like soldiers guarding a prisoner. The sensation of being watched, evaluated, made her skin crawl.
Minutes passed in tense silence before the vehicle slowed to a stop.
Xin Yi didn't move. Her heart was in her throat, choking her.
"Get out," one of the men said flatly, his voice emotionless.
Her chest tightened. She had no choice. The door opened for her, the chill night air greeting her like a slap across her face. She could feel the eyes of the city on her, but it wasn't the city she feared. It was him.
They led her into a towering, glass-and-steel building that rose high above the city—an imposing fortress of luxury and power. The lobby was almost too quiet, echoing with the sound of her heels against the marble floor as she walked toward the elevator.
No one spoke.
No one looked at her. She felt like a ghost in her own skin.
The elevator ride seemed to last forever, the floor numbers rising too slowly, mocking her nerves. When the doors finally opened, she was ushered out into a hallway so pristine it almost gleamed, the walls decorated with modern art, sharp and angular, like the man she was about to meet.
At the end of the hallway, a door opened.
Inside, she was met with a sight so contrasting that it left her breathless. The room was lit by dim, ambient lights, and the walls were lined with dark wood, the polished surfaces reflecting the sleek, elegant furniture. In the far corner, there was a massive window with a view that took in the whole city—the same city she'd just left behind. But here, at this height, she felt tiny, insignificant.
And there he was.
Fu Yichen.
He stood with his back to her, gazing out over the city. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that brushed the collar of his tailored suit. Everything about him screamed power, control, and a dangerous calm. But what caught her the most was the aura of darkness that surrounded him, an undeniable force that seemed to make the air itself tremble.
When he turned toward her, his eyes met hers.
Cold.
Calculating.
Piercing.
His gaze locked onto her, and for a moment, Xin Yi couldn't breathe. There was something predatory in the way he looked at her—like a man seeing prey, and at the same time, like a king appraising a rare treasure. But his expression didn't change. He was unreadable, impenetrable.
She couldn't help but feel small in his presence, like an insect caught in the web of something far more dangerous than she could ever understand.
Fu Yichen didn't speak immediately. He didn't need to. His presence was enough to fill the room with an intensity that almost suffocated her. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he stepped forward, his movements fluid, controlled.
His voice, when it came, was low, smooth—a voice that could melt steel or break hearts. "I didn't think you'd be this beautiful."
Xin Yi flinched, caught off guard by the comment. She wasn't sure if it was meant as a compliment or a warning. She didn't respond.
Fu Yichen circled around her slowly, his eyes studying every inch of her as if she were an exhibit in his private gallery. He wasn't rushing. He wasn't in a hurry. He took his time—measuring, assessing, evaluating.
The silence stretched on. Xin Yi was unsure whether she should speak, whether her words even mattered in this moment. She felt as though she had lost all control, her voice tangled in her throat, trapped behind her fear.
"Tell me," Fu Yichen said, his tone now sharp and deliberate, "do you know why you're here?"
"I—" Xin Yi began, her voice a breathless whisper. "I don't…"
"Do you know who I am?"
Her gaze met his, and for a moment, she saw something in his eyes that made her shiver—something too dark, too consuming.
"Yes," she replied softly, her voice shaking despite herself.
Fu Yichen nodded, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Good. Then you understand the gravity of this situation."
Before she could respond, he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. The air seemed to thicken around them, charged with an electric tension she couldn't escape. He stopped just a few feet away from her, his gaze never wavering.
"You belong to me now," he said, each word deliberate, each syllable like a chain locking her in place. "And the sooner you accept that, the easier this will be for both of us."
Xin Yi's heart pounded in her chest, her hands trembling at her sides. She could barely breathe. The reality of her situation was finally sinking in, and it felt like a cold, suffocating weight.
Fu Yichen watched her closely, as though waiting for her to break, to crumble under the pressure. But she stood her ground, even if her knees felt weak.
He stepped back, his eyes still on her. "But don't worry, Xin Yi. You'll learn to enjoy your place. In time."
The way he said it—so calm, so assured—was almost worse than any threat he could have made.
He was right. She would have no choice. There was no escaping him