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Wencai’s eyes flew wide with terror. He raised his hands in a frantic attempt to fend her off, flailing his arms wildly as he shouted, “Whoa, I don’t think I can handle this!”

Fear made his voice shrill and grating, as if it could slice through the heavy air. But the senior student giggled, her voice lilting and laced with temptation, like the deadly song of a Siren:

“What do you mean, you can’t handle it? Come here. I can handle it...” As she spoke, she shot him a flirtatious wink, her eyes full of cunning and greed.

Seeing him frozen in place, she approached like a hunter who had locked onto her prey, taking delicate steps that brimmed with danger and temptation. The overpowering scent of her perfume was like a hook, curling into Wencai’s nostrils and making his head spin. It felt as if thousands of bees were buzzing around inside his skull.

Just as the senior student was about to press against him, Wencai somehow found the strength to jerk backward as if shocked by electricity. In his panic, he nearly slipped.

He stammered, “S-Senior, we can’t do this. This, this isn’t right...” His words carried his last shred of resistance and resolve.

But she ignored him, reaching out with a pale, icy hand to pull him closer as she murmured, “Handsome boy, don’t be shy...”

As they struggled, Wencai stumbled and lurched forward out of control, accidentally crashing into the table beside them. The clutter on top clattered to the floor, making a harsh noise in the silence.