Lu Shen, the new head of a business empire, has a secret: unless he touches me for at least an hour every day, his heart aches as if it were being torn apart.
So he hires me as his personal assistant, then writes an absurd clause into the contract:
"Hand-holding, embraces, and necessary physical contact are permitted at any time."
I grit my teeth and sign, thinking this is just a high-paying, thankless job.
Then, at a family banquet, he pins me against the piano and kisses me passionately in front of everyone, his breath burning hot:
"Clause Ten of the contract: When Party A loses control, Party B is obligated to provide comfort."
But clearly... he was the one who lost control first.
