Who are you

Haoyu barely had time to process what was happening before a strong hand grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him forward.

Feng Yizhou's grip was firm, his expression dark and unreadable. A dangerous aura crackled around him like a brewing storm.

"I said—who are you?" His voice was cold, each word slow and deliberate.

Haoyu's heart nearly leaped out of his chest. What the fuck—why does this guy feel like a final boss?

Before he could stammer out a response, Qingran shot up from her seat.

"Yizhou," she called sharply. "He's my person. Let him go."

Feng Yizhou didn't immediately release his grip. His black eyes flickered between Qingran and Haoyu, tension rolling off him in waves.

"…"

Then his gaze darkened further.

"Why the fuck is there a man in your house?" His voice was even lower now, dangerous, as he turned his attention fully onto her.