This director only directs blockbusters.

At 1:30 a.m., all was quiet.

Yang Ning stood outside Fan Binbin's room.

The corridor lights were already off, with only the emergency exit signs casting a faint green glow on the dark door panels.

A sliver of warm yellow light peeked through the crack in the door—she was indeed awake.

Yang Ning placed his hand on the doorknob, the coolness of the metal penetrating his palm. He hesitated, wondering whether to go in or not.

If Fan Binbin goes for it, her meaning is clear; if she doesn't, it would be a pity to let such a beauty go.

I finally got reborn, not to suffer in silence.

Yang Ning didn't hesitate any longer and gently pressed down on the doorknob.

The door lock slid open silently.

Pushing open the door, I found only a bedside lamp lit up the room, its dim yellow light barely dispelling the darkness in the corner.

Fan Binbin sat on the edge of the bed with his back to the door, dressed in a full training outfit—long sleeves and long pants, completely covered up. His wet hair was loose over his shoulders, still carrying the steam from the bathroom.

Hearing the noise, she did not turn around.

"You're here?" The voice was so calm that no emotion could be detected.

"Hmm." Yang Ning closed the door behind him, the soft click sounding particularly clear in the silence.

"I thought you wouldn't dare to come." She still didn't turn around.

Yang Ning walked up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder.

Beneath her palm, her muscles tensed instantly, then slowly relaxed with restraint.

"A provocation?" he asked, his fingers unconsciously tracing the taut shoulder line beneath the quick-drying dough.

"As long as it works." Fan Binbin finally turned her head.

Under the lamplight, her cheeks still showed signs of slight swelling, and the bluish-purple bruises on her cheekbones faded in the dim light, adding a touch of broken beauty to her bright face.

Her eyes shone with an unusual light, containing defiance, resentment, and an almost dangerous probing—

Like a trapped beast eyeing its tamer outside the cage, it is both wary and eager for a contest.

Yang Ning didn't speak, his hand slowly sliding down her shoulder line and stopping at her waist.

The training clothes are very thin, allowing you to clearly feel the firm muscle lines underneath.

This is not a slender, supple waist, but the waist of a powerful warrior capable of withstanding heavy pressure.

Fan Binbin's breath hitched for a moment.

"Director Yang," her voice was a little tense, "do you know why I left the door open?"

"Tell me about it," Yang Ning said, also a little curious.

"Because you said during the day that Lin Xue had to become a warrior." She turned completely around to face him directly, her gaze unwavering. "But I think... warriors aren't trained, they're forced into it. They're forged in battle."

She raised her chin, her eyes sharp: "Do you dare?"

Yang Lin couldn't stand Fan Binbin's questioning at all. He chuckled and pinched her chin with his fingers, the force just right, enough to make her unable to look away.

"Do you think I was being too polite to you on the training field?"

"That's different." Fan Binbin didn't struggle, letting him control the position. "On the training field, it's the director with the actors. But now..."

"What is it now?"

"I don't know." She suddenly laughed, a laugh tinged with madness and a desperate resolve. "That's precisely why I want to give it a try."

Yang Ning released her chin, his fingertips slowly sliding down her neck, tracing the curve of her collarbone, and finally stopping at the metal head of the training uniform zipper.

"Last chance." His voice was low, yet each word was clear in the silence. "Let me go now, it's not too late. Don't wait, or I'll beat you until you cry."

Fan Binbin stared into his eyes, and time seemed to stretch out.

Two seconds later, she reached out, grasped his wrist, and firmly pulled him toward herself—

With a "ripping" sound, the zipper was pulled open directly from the collar.

Her black sports vest was visible, slightly damp with sweat, clinging to her body curves. To be honest, her figure wasn't the conventionally good one; she was a bit chubby, but her skin was like a peeled egg, snow-white and translucent.

"Do I look like someone who's afraid?" Her voice trembled, but she still maintained her pride. "I, 'Fan Ye,' have never learned to bow my head in my entire life."

Yang Ning did not respond.

He leaned down and kissed her—not a gentle probe, but an aggressive possession.

Fan Binbin groaned, his fingers suddenly gripping the fabric of his back so tightly that his nails almost dug into the fibers.

The kiss was so long it was suffocating, until she began to struggle, her grip changing from a tight hold to a push, and only then did Yang Ning release her.

She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving violently.

……

Yang Ning's voice rang close to her ear, his hand still resting on her waist, "Do you submit?"

"I won't accept it," she gasped, her eyes still blazing with anger. "This is nothing! How can you surrender so quickly! You're already thinking of giving up? You can't do it!"

"Fine. Go ahead and be stubborn! I won't hold back this time."

"Who asked you to show mercy? Bring it on! Let's see if I, Fan Bingbing, can handle you!"

…………

…………

……

His breath was hot against her earlobe. "How is it? Are you convinced?"

Fan Bingbing's eyes were filled with stubbornness at this moment, and she gritted her teeth and said, "I, Fan Bingbing, will never admit defeat."

"Are you a duck? Your beak is so stubborn, but it won't work on me! I'm an old Chinese medicine doctor who specializes in curing all kinds of stubbornness." Yang Ning's voice became firm.

"I'll... I'll fight you to the death." Her voice was broken, but it still carried a stubbornness that refused to admit defeat. She bit down on Yang Ning's shoulder.

……

"Are you convinced now?"

Yang Ning stopped all movements.

He looked down at her.

She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving.

A few seconds later, she raised her arm and punched him hard on the shoulder.

"You bastard..." the voice rasped, "You're not human, you're a beast..."

"Mmm," Yang Ning responded, got up from her, and sat on the edge of the bed.

Fan Binbin remained motionless, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Only the gradually calming breathing of the two people remained in the room.

After a long silence, Fan Binbin finally spoke, her voice so hoarse it was almost unrecognizable:

"Will Lin Xue... also experience these things?"

"No." Yang Ning lit a cigarette. "There's no time or inclination to do such things in the apocalypse."

"Then why to me...?"

"Because you're not Lin Xue." He exhaled a puff of smoke. "You're Fan Binbin. Sometimes you're too assertive and too stubborn. You need to be tamed first before you know how to tame a character."

Fan Binbin turned her head to look at him.