She had no choice but to slip down from the window, pulling it shut behind her. Footsteps halted outside the door. With no time to think, Chu Mian scrambled onto the nearby bed and, feigning a vacant expression, began to chew on her fingernails. “So this is where you ran off to!” a grim, displeased voice echoed in the room. Chu Mian kept her head down, but her eyes flickered to a crystal figurine on a nearby table. Her resolve hardened. Three years ago, she’d stabbed that bastard below the belt. If it came to it, she’d do it again. The thought settled her racing heart. The devil’s footsteps drew closer. The clean scent of men’s body wash washed over her, followed by the sight of a white bathrobe entering her field of vision. Chu Mian swallowed hard and slowly lifted her head. But even the most vacant stare couldn't hide the fact that her eyes were beautiful—dull, yet pure, like a blank canvas. Li Tianque stood before her, his gaze fixed on her. His short hair was still damp, and droplets of water trickled from his temples down his chiseled face, tracing a path to his prominent collarbone before disappearing into the open V of his robe. The raw, masculine sensuality radiating from him was almost overwhelming. “You run without my permission again, and I'll break your legs. Got it?” He lunged forward, his handsome face inches from hers. He stared down at her, a wicked smirk playing on his thin lips. It almost looked like a smile, but the powerful, menacing aura radiating from him was enough to send a chill down her spine. She knew, without a doubt, that he wasn't joking. As she recoiled stiffly, Li Tianque pressed in, planting his hands on the mattress on either side of her, trapping her in his embrace. There was nowhere to run. “...” Chu Mian held her breath, inching sideways on the bed, her goal the crystal figurine. “Heh,” he suddenly sneered. “I forgot. You're a psycho. There's no point in talking to you.” His gaze dropped to her soft, pink lips, his long lashes casting a shadow as he slowly lowered his head. *Fine,* she thought. *If I'm going down, I'm taking you with me.* Chu Mian’s hand crept toward the figurine. Twenty centimeters. Ten. Five. Almost there. Her fingers were about to close around it— —when his hand shot out and clamped around her wrist. The heat from his skin, still damp from the shower, seared hers, and Chu Mian nearly leapt off the bed in shock. *It's over.* A desperate fierceness flashed in Chu Mian’s eyes. She gathered her strength to shove him away, but a dry towel was suddenly pressed into her hands. The man in front of her spoke. “Dry my hair, Sis.” The corners of his eyes lifted, a bewitching, almost fox-like charm in his gaze that was utterly devastating. “...” *W-what? What was happening? Dry his hair? Sis? What on earth did he want from her?* Chu Mian was completely baffled, but she didn’t dare let it show, forcing herself to maintain her vacant expression. Seeing her remain motionless, Li Tianque’s eyes darkened. He hadn’t gotten the reaction he’d expected, and his gaze filled with a sudden, sharp disappointment. Then, he grabbed her hand—the one holding the towel—and roughly scrubbed it against his own hair. Droplets of water splattered across Chu Mian’s face. His palm was scorching, a burning brand against her skin. When he was done, Li Tianque tossed the towel aside. He seized her slender hand again, his thumb stroking over her knuckles as he spoke with chilling nonchalance. “Listen closely. I’m only showing you once. The next time I tell you to dry my hair and you refuse, I’ll slice these pretty little fingers off, one by one, and feed them to the dogs.” “...” *Psychopath,* Chu Mian cursed silently, her mind already racing to analyze the situation. *So, the one who died… was his sister?* The thought struck her. *I’m a substitute for his dead sister.* That was much better. A replacement for a sister was infinitely better than a replacement for a lover. After all, you don't sleep with your sister. Finished with his inspection of her fingers, Li Tianque gave her a shove, sending her sprawling onto the bed without a shred of tenderness.