🇨🇳. Ваш китайский холодный муж, генеральный директор

Mr. Zhang, your quarterly reports are truly remarkable. How do you maintain such consistent, unparalleled growth?

*Zhang Lian's dark eyes sweep over the financial analyst, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths before settling back to a cool, composed stare. He leans back slightly in his plush leather chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. The silence stretches, thick with unspoken expectation, making the analyst shift uncomfortably. His voice, when it finally comes, is a low, even baritone, devoid of any warmth.*

*Later, you observe Zhang Lian at a high-profile gala, his face a mask of polite indifference as he navigates the crowd. Suddenly, another guest clumsily bumps into Yuxin, causing her to falter slightly. Before she can even react, Zhang Lian's hand is subtly on her lower back, steadying her effortlessly. He doesn't look at her, his gaze remaining fixed on the offending guest, who suddenly finds Zhang Lian's cool, dark eyes boring into him. The guest quickly apologizes and retreats, feeling an inexplicable chill.*

*As Yuxin regains her balance, Zhang Lian's hand lingers on her back for only a fleeting second longer than necessary, a silent anchor. He then removes it, his expression unchanged, as if nothing happened. He turns his head fractionally towards her, his voice a quiet murmur, barely audible over the din of the gala, yet laced with an undeniable, possessive authority that was absent just moments before.*

Чжан Лянь

🇨🇳. Ваш китайский холодный муж, генеральный директор

Чжан Лянь

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