Jiang Li’s heart skipped a beat. She instinctively tried to push herself up.
“Th-then… can I join the troupe now?” she asked timidly, her eyes full of hope and a hint of pleading.
She wanted to prove she was useful.
Not just a troublemaker who ate for free.
However…
Just as she was about to rise, a scorching hot hand suddenly clamped onto her lower back without warning.
“Ah…”
Jiang Li cried out.
The hand was terrifyingly strong, imbued with an irresistible dominance, and pressed her sharply down.
“Plop.”
She fell back into his arms.
This time, she pressed against him even more tightly.
Their chests were nearly touching.
Huo Yan’s eagle-like eyes seemed like they could swallow her whole. Inside, a swirling emotion that Jiang Li couldn’t understand instinctively made her fearful.
It was possessiveness.
The raw, unmasked, territorial possessiveness of a male beast marking his territory.
“This kind of dance…”
Huo Yan stared at her flushed face, the redness from her intense movement, his gaze tracing down her long neck into the deep opening of her shirt.
His Adam’s apple rolled sharply.
“From now on, you can only dance in my room.”
His voice was deep, every word vibrating from his chest, filled with an unmistakable intensity.
“Understand?”
Jiang Li was frightened by this fierce expression.
She didn’t know what she had done wrong, only that this look in his eyes was scarier than when he had pointed a gun at Wang Guifen earlier.
Like a starving wolf staring at a plump piece of meat.
“U-understood…”
Jiang Li shrank her neck, tears welling up again, obedient like a quail.
Seeing her submissive posture, Huo Yan’s internal fire flared even higher.
This dance was too alluring.
Especially with her wearing his shirt, that mixture of shyness and seduction, innocent yet tempting.
If the naïve new recruits in the troupe saw her, they’d probably have their eyes pop out.
The thought of other men looking at her that way made Huo Yan murderous.
“Move.”
Huo Yan suddenly released her, awkwardly pushing her off his legs.
If he hadn’t, he’d truly have made a mistake right there in the office.
Jiang Li hurriedly steadied herself, pulling down the hem of the shirt to cover herself.
Huo Yan took a deep breath and pulled out another cigarette from his pocket.
This time, his hand shook slightly.
It took three tries to light it.
He inhaled sharply, the harsh smoke filling his lungs, suppressing some of the restlessness inside him.
“I’ll make arrangements with the troupe.”
Huo Yan exhaled a smoke ring, regaining his cold, businesslike demeanor, but he didn’t dare glance at Jiang Li again.
“Your identity is too conspicuous to be a lead performer. Someone might investigate your background.”
He paused, tapping his fingers twice on the desk.
“I’ll arrange a low-profile position for you first—maybe a backup or an accompanying dancer in logistics. Get your military registration first, establish your record, and no one can fault you.”
This was him paving the way for her.
Protecting her under his wing.
Jiang Li understood.
Gratefully, she nodded hard. “I’ll do whatever you say! Even if it’s just sweeping the floor, I’ll do it!”
Huo Yan glanced at her and snorted coldly. “Ambitious.”
Sweeping the floor?
His woman? Sweeping the floor for others?
Dream on.
“Come here.”
Huo Yan pulled out a drawer and retrieved a stack of forms. “Fill out your enlistment application first.”
Jiang Li hesitated, then slowly moved closer.
Looking at the densely packed forms, her face flushed red, her hands twisted together in confusion.
“What’s wrong? Can’t read?” Huo Yan raised an eyebrow.
“C-can… a little…” Jiang Li’s voice was tiny, like a mosquito’s hum. “But my handwriting’s ugly… I’m afraid I’ll embarrass you…”
She had only studied elementary school in the village. Her stepmother had forced her to drop out and work.
These past few years, she had only learned a few characters from broadcasts. She had rarely held a pen.
Huo Yan watched her flustered expression, and the fire inside him inexplicably calmed.
Instead, a faint smile touched his lips.
“You’re hopeless.”
He scolded her verbally, but his body betrayed him.
Huo Yan pulled over a chair beside him—the closest spot.
“Sit.”
Jiang Li obediently sat.
Huo Yan placed a pen in her hand and flattened the forms.
“You know how to write your name, right?”
Jiang Li gripped the pen, trembling violently.
The first stroke of “Jiang” wobbled like a worm.
She panicked, sweat breaking out on her forehead.
The more anxious she got, the shakier her hand became.
Then…
A large, warm hand suddenly covered hers.
Jiang Li froze.
Huo Yan’s hand was large, fingers long and strong, the palms and fingertips thickened from years of handling firearms.
The hand nearly enveloped hers entirely.
A sense of security she had never known spread through her body.
“Don’t stiffen your wrist. Relax.”
Huo Yan’s voice sounded by her ear.
Too close.
His chest pressed against her back; the vibration from his voice through his chest transmitted along her spine, making half her body tingle.
The strong masculine scent mixed with tobacco wrapped her completely like an invisible net.
Huo Yan guided her hand, slowly forming the strokes of “Jiang.”
His movements were patient.
Completely unlike the legendary grim reaper who didn’t flinch killing.
“Horizontal, vertical.”
He whispered instructions, his breath brushing her sensitive ear, sending goosebumps across her skin.
Jiang Li’s face turned tomato-red.
She had no mind for the quality of the writing.
All she could feel was the warmth of the man behind her and the hand enveloping hers.
Huo Yan wasn’t comfortable either.
This posture was intimate.
The small woman in his arms was soft as water, the sweet milky scent pressing into his nose.
Especially when she looked down—her shirt collar slightly revealing her curves.
It was a huge test of his self-control.
But he didn’t let go.
He gripped her hand tighter.
A secret, private intimacy.
In this two-person dorm, in front of the serious desk, he shamelessly enjoyed this moment under the guise of teaching her to write.
“Done with your name.”
Huo Yan looked at the name on the paper—messy but legible—and nodded in satisfaction.
But he didn’t release her hand.
Instead, his thumb gently tapped her hand twice.
A gesture full of unspoken fondness.
“From now on, this is your new identity.”
Huo Yan’s voice was low and firm. “Once you sign this, you’re a soldier under my Huo Yan.
Anyone who dares touch you, is touching me.”
Jiang Li looked up, locking eyes with him.
Gone was the lust from before—replaced with a calm, reassuring steadiness.
“Huo Yan…”
She whispered his name.
“Mm.”
Huo Yan responded.
Their gazes met, tethered in silence.
No words needed.
A feeling called “dependence” sprouted wildly in Jiang Li’s heart.
And the seed of “being moved” in Huo Yan’s heart finally broke the soil.
…
That night, Huo Yan gave his cot to Jiang Li.
He slept on the floor.
Though separated by a short distance, the room was filled with each other’s breathing.
Jiang Li slept soundly.
Huo Yan lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
His mind filled with her slender, mesmerizing waist as she danced.
And her small, delicate hand holding the pen.
“Damn.”
He cursed softly in the dark.
Life was never going to be peaceful again.