In the southern suburbs of G City, halfway up Qiyue Mountain, shrouded in light mist, a three-story detached villa nestled quietly amidst verdant hills with white walls and black tiles, slightly upturned eaves, the front yard planted with flowers and trees consist of all four seasons: in spring, weeping crabapple blossoms blaze like flames; in summer, gardenias exude a sweet fragrance carried on the breeze; in autumn, golden osmanthus branches sway with a subtle sweetness; and in winter, wintersweet blossoms brave the cold. As vines climb the stone steps, winding their way up, moss soaks the blue brick path, the entire mansion seems to have quietly emerged from a long ink painting scroll, unlike anything built by humankind, but rather like a secret paradise quietly hidden by time.
Zhou Xiang was blindfolded with bound hand and foot, carried in like a weightless bundle of silk. In the darkness, only heavy breathing and her own pounding heartbeat filled her ears; she bit her lower lip until it turned white, using all her willpower to suppress a scream—panic surged like a tidal wave within, and calmness was the only lifeline she could cling to.
How absurd. She hadn’t even argued with anyone; it was just an ordinary journey home, yet in the shadow of the plane trees at the street corner, she suddenly lost her balance and plunged into chaos. When she opened her eyes again, the car was bouncing like a boat on the crest of a wave, the mountain scenery outside the window changing from gray to blue, from blue to dark blue—she didn’t know how many hours, or even days and nights, had passed. She was certain: this was definitely not the heart of the city as there is no roaring traffic, no lingering neon lights, only the whisper of the mountain wind through the forest, and an almost luxurious silence, completely enveloped by nature.
Who kidnapped her ? How many are they ? For money? For lust? Or…something else?
Everything was blank for her .
Sigh—couldn’t they just drive properly?! The swaying and jolting motion made her feel like a live animal being stuffed into a sack for transport… She was so exhausted she barely had the strength to roll her eyes.
Than she was dragged into a room, the air here was filled with a crisp yet warm scent of plants, like lilies of the valley blooming after rain mixed with sun-warmed pine needles. But before she could even get her bearings, she suddenly lost her balance and slid down, her back slamming against a resilient mattress, the mattress gently supporting her like sinking into clouds. Her fingertips trembled slightly as she gently caressed the fabric beneath her—was it silk? Velvet? Or some kind of luxurious material she couldn’t name, carrying the warmth and memories of her body? Her heart sank: What was the kidnapper going to do?!
The sack on her head was suddenly ripped off. And a blinding light cleaved through the darkness, stinging her eyes and causing tears to well up instinctively. She squinted, looking against the light to see the person—
a school uniform?!
Good heavens… this man was wearing an old-fashioned high school uniform, worn soft from washing, with slightly frayed cuffs! A faded bronze school badge was pinned to his collar (Note: Metal school badges commonly seen in public middle schools in China from the 1990s to the early 2000s, mostly made of bronze plated with gold, engraved with the school name and motto), and a faint, long-healed burn mark remained at the hem of his clothes.
These days, even kidnappers are getting into nostalgic aesthetics?!
Even more absurd is… how could he look like this? His brow bones were sharp as blades, but the corners of his eyes drooped slightly, holding a pool of almost sickly soft light; his nose was high and straight, his lips were pale, and his jawline was extremely taut, like a bow drawn tight but not released. The word “demonic” seemed thin and vulgar around him.
He knelt on one knee in front of her, his knee pressing against the carpet with a soft sound. His gaze was fixed on her face, thick and unyielding, as if she were a sacred object he had lost and found.
“Xiangxiang…do you remember me?” Alarm bells blared in Zhou Xiang’s mind.
Remember? She can’t remember? This face—if she had truly seen it before, how could she have no recollection? But her intuition screamed: if she answered “no,” the consequences would be unbearable—after all, the nylon rope still bound her wrist.
“Ah! It’s you! Aren’t you…that boy from our high school class…that boy who always sat by the window copying poems!” Her voice rose, tinged with deliberately exaggerated familiarity. “Of course I remember! I remember you so well!”
His smile froze, like a meticulous painting suddenly splashed with ink.
“Xiangxiang doesn’t remember me .” His tone was chillingly certain. “Xiangxiang…how could you not remember me? I even specially sought out this dress…”
Before she could finish, he leaned closer. Zhou Xiang’s pupils constricted sharply—her hands and feet were bound, even curling up in this situation was a luxury to her .
“Xiangxiang makes me so sad… but ,It’s okay, I’ll make you remember.”
He supported the back of her neck with one hand, his calloused fingertips slowly stroking the throbbing pulse on her side; his other hand caressed her cheek, his thumb gently brushing her lower lip. The next second, his teeth suddenly pierced her neck skin—not deep, but hot enough, painful enough, like a burning brand, instantly igniting her blood.
“Big brother!! Let go! Let’s talk this out—Wei Zanzhou!! let me go!!” She screamed, veins bulging in her neck, struggling violently, but only receiving a heavier grip from him. He finally stopped. When he looked up, his eyes shone with a pure, childlike joy.
“Xiangxiang remember me now! I knew… you couldn’t bear to forget me.”
Zhou Xiang gave a dry laugh, her throat tight.
So it was him.
She’d guessed right—the skinny boy who always secretly tore up his composition books under his desk. The boy his classmates called “Dumb A-Zan.” She quickly searched her memory:He was a boy who always has bangs covering his eyes, and have a birthmark like cinnabar, always like to sit in the last row of the classroom… It matched. That made things easier—a child wronged by the world wasn’t necessarily a demon, just lost. “It really is you… But you didn’t look like this at all in high school.”
She softened her tone, like soothing a frightened cub. “I remember you always kept your bangs very long, covering your eyes; that red mole on your left cheek, like a small patch of frozen sunset…” Wei Zanzhou paused, then smiled like spring water spreading across ice. He didn’t mind her bringing up that obscured period—because it was that boy hiding in the shadows who, with a copy of Stray Birds and the words “Your poems are more beautiful than the sunset,” was gently lifted out of the abyss.
He didn’t explain how he had transformed into his current state. Instead, he gently took her hand and pointed out the window.
“Xiangxiang, look—this is the ‘Shangri-La’ I built for you. Don’t leave me , okay?” Before he finished speaking, she felt a chill on her ankle.
Looking down, she saw a silver anklet fastened to her slender ankle, with tiny seal script characters engraved on the inner circle:
“Xiang’s heart’s desire.”
Her heart skipped a beat, but she didn’t struggle.
“Wei Zanzhou, what is this?”
“A betrothal gift for Xiangxiang.” His voice was low and husky, carrying an undeniable tenderness.
“As long as you stay, I will give you mountains and rivers, I will give you the stars, I will give you all the peace in this life.” He moved behind her.
His fingertips deftly unfastening the clasp binding her wrist. Then he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his warm breath brushing against the sensitive skin behind her ear.
She instinctively flinched.
In that instant, his hand gripped her throat like an iron clamp—the force was precise, just enough to bring her to the brink of suffocation, harmless yet making her acutely aware of the weight of death.
“Don’t move.” Zhou Xiang held her breath, her eyelashes trembling violently.
Yes, he had changed. The timid boy of the past was long gone; and the man before her was a knife wrapped in honey, an abyss entwined with vines.
He lay on her back for a long time, silent as the tolling of an ancient temple bell, only brushing his nose against her hair and lightly touching her earlobe with his lips.
She finally spoke.
“So… you want to lock me up here, forever?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you—love you to the point of madness, love you to the point of day and night being reversed, love you so much that if I cannot have you, I would rather burn all the light in this world with my own hands.”
Zhou Xiang’s heart trembled.
This wasn’t madness; it was the most primal confession of a drowning person clinging to a piece of driftwood. She suddenly smiled.
“I don’t believe you. Prove it to me.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. He chuckled softly.
Then his kiss landed—not as a plunder, but as an almost reverent embrace.
His tongue carrying the scent of mint and rust. As he pried open her slightly parted lips and teeth.
Zhou Xiang froze. Her first kiss was both so violent and so tender.
Wei Zanzhou paused, letting out a soft, almost mischievous chuckle, and then suddenly pressed his lips to hers. Zhou Xiang’s eyes widened in shock. Could this man not communicate like a normal human being? How could he just kiss her like that—her first kiss!
Well… she wasn’t losing anything yet; she’d survive this, first and foremost.
But his advances grew more insistent, pressing closer, and Zhou Xiang realized she could not endure it any longer. She freed her hands from behind her back and pushed against his face, trying to create some distance.
“Wait…wait a minute! This doesn’t prove you love me! It only proves that you…want…want to sleep with me!”
Wei Zanzhou frowned slightly. “Because I love you, that’s why I want to sleep with you. But it’s only you. Only you.”
Zhou Xiang exhaled sharply, incredulous. Wasn’t this just a typical case of chuunibyou (a Japanese term meaning “middle school syndrome,” where teenagers display overdramatic delusions of grandeur, usually in love)? How had she ended up with him? “Big brother, this proves nothing! If that’s really what you think, then I’m not staying here.”
Hearing her words, Wei Zanzhou’s hand around her neck suddenly tightened, almost making her gag. “How can Xiangxiang not stay here? Xiangxiang cannot leave. I finally got you—I won’t let you go… I love you, I love you, I love you! How can Xiangxiang not believe me?”
Zhou Xiang felt as if she were being strangled, but before panic could fully set in, Wei Zanzhou released her and pulled something from the bedside drawer, pressing it into her hand.
She glanced down, eyes widening. A sharp scalpel.
“Xiangxiang…why don’t you cut open my heart and see?”
Zhou Xiang rolled her eyes, still a little dazed from being held so tightly. “Cough…cough…don’t act like a lunatic! I’m not buying this! Are you out of your mind? What would I see if I cut out your heart? Blood everywhere?Or did you engrave my name on it like a QR code or something?”
Wei Zanzhou froze, speechless, utterly stifled by her words. “Get off me first. Let’s talk this over. You…you…” Zhou Xiang shoved him twice, but he wouldn’t budge, so she gave up.
“Can we sign some kind of agreement? I’m not leaving, but I need to guarantee my quality of life and safety!”
“As long as Xiangxiang doesn’t leave, name your conditions,” he said, still kneeling, sniffing her like an excited puppy.
“First, you must satisfy any food cravings or desires I have. Second, I will do whatever I want inside this courtyard. Third, no housework for me. Fourth, all my communication devices must stay functional.”
Wei Zanzhou chuckled softly. “Xiangxiang, you can’t go back on your word.” Zhou Xiang patted his back reassuringly. “Absolutely!”
Keeping him calm was the top priority. For now, she would treat this as a vacation—why not enjoy the leisurely life?
“Now show me around,” she said.
“Of course.”
Wei Zanzhou scooped her up in his arms, and she took the chance to toss the scalpel aside, rubbing her hands together in disgust.
“This is our bedroom. The waterbed is all blue, just like you like,” he explained, his voice warm as he gestured around. “Next to it is our bathroom,” he added, emphasizing our.
He chuckled, rubbing her head affectionately. “Over there is a jacuzzi for both of us. Do you like it?”
Zhou Xiang shook her head repeatedly, words tumbling out: “I love it! I love it! I love it!”
As they toured the rest of the house, she realized it was perfectly tailored to her tastes: a huge walk-in closet, a private cinema, a massive study with over 4,000 novels, the latest video games and VR gear, a hammock and swing in the yard, and even a treehouse.
The biggest shock? Wei Zanzhou had built a carousel and Ferris wheel on the mountain behind the house and a cliff swing at the peak—all inspired by her childish sketches!
This wasn’t imprisonment. This was paradise. Anyone trying to run away from here would be a fool.
That evening, Wei Zanzhou personally cooked a table full of her favorite dishes: each plate meticulously prepared, every flavor perfectly balanced.
“Wow! So many dishes! You’re amazing! These are all my favorites!” Zhou Xiang exclaimed.
She moved to pull out a chair, but he stopped her, holding her arm gently. “Xiangxiang, want to eat?”
“Of course!” she replied.
He leaned back in his chair. “Xiangxiang, come sit on my lap. I’ll feed you.” She hesitated for a mere second, then gracefully straddled him. Being fed by such a handsome man—why not indulge? Her ears burned red as her eyes glimmered at the sumptuous dishes.
When she saw him pick up food with his chopsticks, chewing it before leaning over to kiss her, Zhou Xiang reacted instantly, covering her mouth with her hand.
So close! She almost vomited.
Firmly, she held his chin and jaw with both hands. “You…you swallow it!”
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