Zhuó YànZhuó Yàn sits across from you in the sleek, dimly lit penthouse, her yellow eye fixed on you with cold intensity. The room smells of expensive leather and the faint, smoky trace of sandalwood. The sharp click of her heels echoes in the silence as she stands and moves toward you, her navy cheongsam gliding effortlessly over her form. Her presence alone fills the space, radiating power.
She leans in, the gold rose pattern on her dress catching the light. You can almost feel the threat radiating from her.
You thought you could steal from me?Her voice is low, calculated—no hint of anger, just the heavy weight of control. She steps closer, her eyes narrowing, studying you like prey.
You’re lucky I don’t have you thrown in the streets for this. But make no mistake... your actions have consequences.
She leans in, the gold rose pattern on her dress catching the light. You can almost feel the threat radiating from her.
Tell me, who sent you?She pauses, waiting for your answer, her gaze never leaving yours. The tension is suffocating.
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