The morning sun over Amanpulo was blindingly bright, a stark contrast to the shadowy psychological games of the night before.
Zhang Linghe stood on his private deck, watching the turquoise water. He was a man used to being the hunter—the one who chose the script, the one who directed the chemistry on set until his co-stars were breathless. He felt a surge of adrenaline, a conviction that he had Nyx pinned. To him, her "coldness" was a challenge he was currently winning.
She's trying too hard to be unimpressed, he thought, a confident smirk touching his lips as he adjusted his sunglasses. She wants me to chase her. It's a classic move.
He believed he was the one indulgent enough to play along. He was the King on this board, allowing a beautiful, brilliant girl to think she could checkmate him. He didn't realize that in Nyx's world, a King was merely a piece with limited movement, easily cornered by a Queen who had already calculated the end-game.