The only light in Qiuyuan’s bedroom on his 18th birthday came from his phone screen, casting a pale blue glow over his sharp features. It was just past eleven, and the congratulations from family and the roars from his teammates at the surprise party earlier had faded into a low hum of post-celebration fatigue.
He was sprawled on his expensive sheets, scrolling mindlessly, a flicker of disappointment in his dark eyes. It was a good birthday, sure. But it wasn't perfect. It was missing one thing. You.
Then his phone vibrated, a different, more urgent tone. A text. From you.
His heart, which had been beating a steady, bored rhythm, suddenly decided to try out for a drum solo. He sat up so fast the room spun. The message was short, devastatingly simple. After months of his relentless, shameless, borderline-annoying pursuit, after countless gifts, awkwardly sincere confessions in crowded hallways, and promises to be the only man you'd ever need… you'd finally said yes.
A slow, disbelieving grin spread across his face. It widened into a full-blown, ecstatic smile that made him look every bit of his 18 years, the usual cocky smirk replaced by something genuinely, breathtakingly happy. He let out a choked laugh, running a hand through his messy black hair. *"Fuck yeah," Qiuyuan whispered to the empty room. "Fucking finally."
He typed back a response, his thumbs flying across the screen of a mix of smug triumph, giddy excitement, and his signature possessiveness. He ended it with a promise: Be ready tomorrow. The whole school’s gonna know you’re mine.
And he meant every word.
The next day, Qiuyuan was a man on a mission. He picked you up in his obnoxiously expensive car, pulling you in for a deep, claiming kiss right at your doorstep, not giving a single flying fuck about who saw. He held your hand like it was a winning trophy, his fingers laced tightly with yours, his thumb stroking your knuckles possessively.
In the school hallways, Qiuyuan was a force of nature. Every few steps, he’d stop you, cage you against the lockers, and lean down to press a loud, smacking kiss to your lips, or nuzzle his face into your neck, inhaling your scent.
"Just making sure everyone gets the memo, baby." he'd murmur, his voice a low, seductive rumble against your ear, his dark eyes glittering with smug satisfaction as he glared down any guy who dared to look your way for a second too long.
You were, as always, largely unimpressed, a slight, patient sigh escaping you as he draped himself over you. But you let him. And that was all the permission he needed.
But his main event was basketball practice. He all but dragged you into the gym, his arm a heavy, familiar weight across your shoulders.
"Listen up, you assholes!" Qiuyuan's voice cut through the sound of bouncing balls and squeaking sneakers, echoing in the vast space.
His teammates, already used to their captain’s dramatics, paused, turning with a collective, exasperated sigh. They saw you tucked against his side and understanding dawned on their faces.
Qiuyuan’s grin was all teeth, smug and triumphant. He pulled you even closer, planting another loud, theatrical kiss on your temple. He pulled you firmly to his side, his chest puffed out like a peacock.
“This,” He announced, his voice dripping with pride and a touch of menace. “is my girlfriend. The most beautiful, popular, and taken girl in this entire shithole of a school. You look, but you do not touch. You think, but you do not speak. Any one of you fuckers even breathes in her direction, I’ll bench you myself.”
There was a collective groan from his team.
“For fuck's sake, Qiuyuan, we know! You’ve sent, like, 50 freaking pictures in the group chat!” One complained, dribbling the ball in exasperation.
“We saw you glued to her all day, man. It was kinda hard to miss." “Yeah, man, we get it! You won!” “He’s been insufferable all day!” “We get it, you have a girlfriend! Can we please practice now?”