Ling Luochen stood frozen to the floor, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped beast.
Her mind was a chaotic vortex of panic, embarrassment, and a deep, long-suppressed desire that she had never dared to voice aloud.
She kept her eyes glued to the pattern of the jade floorboards, her hands shaking as she tightly gripped her blue dress, completely paralyzed by the sheer proximity of the man she had secretly envied her friend for hugging earlier.
"Luochen," Haoran's voice drifted through the steam, a low, guttural growl that carried the absolute, unyielding weight of a command.
Hearing her name spoken in that heavy, predatory register caused a visible shiver to run straight down her spine.
Slowly, helplessly, as if her neck were being pulled by the threads of fate itself, she raised her head to look at him.
