"Do you really still love me, or not?"
Jelly Mei's voice was soft, almost sweet. But her eyes never blinked.
"I might be single now," she added, "but you're still my favorite."
Taylor Swift's glare could have fried an egg. From across the room, she shot a look at Ryan that said touch her and die. Ryan winced—his hip still sore from her last "training session."
God, these women…
They weren't just gorgeous. They were dangerously possessive. And apparently, they didn't care if they were competing.
"I'll deal with this later," Ryan muttered, brushing Taylor off with a quick kiss on the forehead.
Jelly Mei, satisfied, handed him a letter. Official Futang government seal. The handwriting was a mess of honorifics and veiled requests.
Translation?
"We, the royal family of Futang, invite Mr. Ryan Li to tour our top-secret biological facility—specifically, our genetically preserved long-life specimens."
Ryan's eyebrow twitched.
They want to trade a living cryptid for my DNA?
He laughed.
Bold move, King.But you're not getting your grubby hands on my chromosomes that easily.
Still, Ryan couldn't deny his curiosity. If this "Heaven's Cushion Facility" really housed ancient mutated creatures… he wanted a look.
And if anything smelled suspicious?
Well—he had a surprise for them too.
Later that evening, Jelly Mei leaned in close.
"I'm staying at the Hilton. Room 1808," she whispered.
She batted her lashes and walked off, hips swaying with purpose.
Taylor growled behind him.
Ryan pretended not to notice.
The flight to Futang was luxury-class. Private jet. Kobe beef. Hand-rolled sushi. A chef even sliced fresh sashimi in front of him.
"Exquisite, no?" the chef said proudly.
Ryan took a bite, then calmly set down his chopsticks.
"Your fish has parasites."
The chef paled. "I beg your pardon?"
"These are farmed at low-altitude tanks. Not ocean-caught. That means there's a 30% chance I'll spend the next two days hugging a toilet."
He pushed the plate away. "Try again."
The entire kitchen crew bowed like they'd failed the emperor.
That night, at the Hilton—
Jelly Mei greeted him in a silk robe, hair loose, smile wide.
"My liege," she said playfully, "allow me to offer Futang's finest massage therapy."
Ryan raised a brow. "You trained?"
"Since birth."
She knelt on the floor before him.
"I promise… satisfaction."
Of course you do, Ryan thought.
She began with aromatherapy oils, fingertips gentle but skilled. Her eyes never left his.
Every motion was designed to seduce.
And it might have worked.
Except this was Ryan Li.
He didn't lose to heat.
Or honey traps.
Still, he let her continue. The technique was excellent. Surprisingly… respectful.
If only this weren't state-sponsored seduction, he thought.
Somewhere across the city, the Futang King reviewed his spy feed and grinned.
"Perfect. Jelly Mei was always my most convincing agent."
Little did he know—Ryan had already mapped the room's cameras and sent the footage to Taylor for safekeeping.
Because if this turned into a trap?
The only thing getting blown… would be their embassy. Again.