The air in Shanghai felt heavier than she expected.

Not suffocating-just thick, charged, like the sky before a storm. Mei Ling tightened her grip on the handle of her suitcase as she stepped into the arrival hall of Pu dong International Airport, her boots clicking on the polished floor. The terminal buzzed with life: languages she didn't understand, fast footsteps, neon sighs and the scent of cologne, jet fuel and unfamiliar spices. Even if she was herself a Chinese girl, She was raised by a foster family in the UK from the age of 2.

This was supposed to be a journey. An escape. A month abroad to find clarity after years of running in circles. A solo adventure across China, just her and her camera, where no one knew her name or what she was trying to leave behind. China was just a place on the map until it became her escape plan.

She was ready for a fresh start.

She didn't expect her entire life to shift in a single moment.

It happened as she was reaching for her suitcase at baggage claim.

It started with a feeling.

That pricking sensation along her spine, like she was being watched, not in passing, but like someone had locked onto her. She adjusted the strap of her backpack and glanced up instinctively.

And then... everything stopped.

He stood just beyond the glass that separated the private arrivals' section from the general public. Still. Silent. Watching her like a predator waiting to strike. Dressed in black, immaculately tailored, with an open collar that revealed a silver of ink curling along the edge of his throat. He was too far away to see clearly-yet somehow, his eyes met her like he had summoned her gaze.

Dark. Intense. Possessive.

The world around her blurred. The rush of travelers, the hum of announcements, the buzz of life-it all faded until only he remained.

He didn't blink. He didn't move.

But something in her did.

Her stomach fluttered. Her breath stilled. Furthermore, her skin flushed with heat, like her body recognized something her mind hadn't caught up with yet.

Three seconds.

That's all it took.

Three second of eye contact, and something inside her had shifted. Frightening. Unexplainable. Electric.

Then a family of tourists pushed a luggage cart through her line of sight-and when she looked again, he was gone.

Her heart thudded hard in her chest, a delayed reaction to... Whatever that had been.

Who was he?

She didn't even know his name. But that stare had branded something into her-something she couldn't shake, no matter how hard she tried.

"Miss Ling?" a man asked, breaking the spell. A driver in a crisp black uniform held up a sign with her name on it. "Your car is ready."

She nodded quickly, pulling her attention back to the real world.

Across the city, high above the skyline in a sleek glass tower, Xiang Yu stood in silence before a wall of windows. Below him, Shanghai sparkled-modern, alive, chaotic. But he didn't see it.

He saw her.

"Mei Ling," he murmured, his voice quiet but edged in steel.

He turned to the man standing behind him-his assistant, waiting for orders.

"She landed fifteen minutes ago," the assistant said in Mandarin. "No security. Traveling alone. No connections in China. It's her first time."

Xiang's lips curved, not in a smile-but in something darker. "Perfect."

"Do you want us to approach her?"

"No." His tone was final. Cold. "Not yet."

He turned back to the window, his reflection staring into the night.

"I saw her," he said softly. "And I knew."

The assistant hesitated. "Knew what, sir?"

Xiang's eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

"That I would never let her leave."

A small, cruel smile touched his lips. " She'll come to me."

The city was alive beneath her feet.

Mei stepped out of the metro station and into the heart of Shanghai's French Concession district. A veil of mist hung in the air, softening the city's sharp edges. Lights from cafés and designer storefronts shimmered in the puddles like scattered jewels. The three overhead whispered with rain, their wet leaves catching glints of neon.

It was beautiful-cinematic. The kind of scene she should've been photographing. The kind of places her followers expected to see on her feed.

But her camera stayed slung over one shoulder, untouched.

She couldn't stop thinking about him.

That man.

The one who had looked at her like he'd seen straight through the skin of her thoughts. Like her story was already written on his palm and he planned to rewrite it, line by line. It had lasted only a second-maybe less-but the feeling lingered.

It wasn't just the way he looked at her. It was what she felt in the space between that look and now. Like something had shifted. Like something invisible had been drawn taut.

She tried to shake it off. Probably just a businessman, she told herself. Too much cologne and not enough manners. She'd seen plenty of them in airports. The ones who thought a passing glance was an invitation.

Still... she couldn't deny it. The moment had unsettled her.

Her phone buzzed.

Mia: You landed safely, right? Don't disappear and marry some billionaire, okay??

Mei laughed under her breath, thumbs flying.

Mei: No promises. Shanghai is wild.

A gust of wind pulled at her scarf as she wandered deeper into a quiet alley, the kind that felt like secret. Boutique windows glowed with light, showcasing handmade ceramics, rare teas, vintage jewelry. The soft patter of rain on the cobblestones was the only sound.

And then-

That feeling again.

She stopped.

Not from cold. Something behind her skin.

Her hand hovered near her phone. She turned slowly.

Empty street.

A delivery bike whirred past at the alley's far end. A cat slinked out from behind a row of flower pots. Nothing sinister. Nothing at all.

"Get it together, Mei," she muttered.

She took another step. Still, pulse fluttered. The sensation of being seen clung to her like a second skin.

Across the street, behind the tinted windows of a sleek black SUV, Xiang Yu watched.

She didn't move like the others. She wasn't careful yet. Her expressions were too open, too unguarded. She looked at the city like it was a gift.

That wouldn't last. This place had teeth.

But it wasn't just her innocence that drew him. It was the pull. A current beneath his ribs that had begun the moment he saw her at the airport, suitcase in one hand, hair tucked behind her ear.

He'd watched hundreds of women move through this city. Yet, he trusted none.

But Mei Ling... she was different.

Not in a way he could explain. Not in a way that made sense.

There was no lust in him now. That would come later. What lived inside him at this moment was darker. More primal.

Possession.

He leaned forward slightly, watching the way she paused in front of a tea house window, tilting her head in curiosity like she could hear a song no one else could.

"Track her movements," he said.

His assistant, seated beside him with a tablet in hand, glanced over and hesitated. "Yes, sir."

Xiang leaned back, gaze never leaving her.

She had no idea who he was. No idea what world she'd just stepped into.

But she would learn.

Soon.

And there would be no way out.