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Summary
To Wei Ying's delight, Lan Zhan ties the belt around his wrists, binding them tightly at the small of his back.
"Lan Zhan," he sweetly complains. "I was behaving. There's no reason to take away my hands."
"I can never be certain with you."
Wei Ying tracks Lan Zhan's movements with interest as he reaches into his desk drawer, but his eyes widen with fear when he pulls out a wooden ruler. "H-hey! Let's not be hasty here! We can talk about this!"
"Enough talking." Lan Zhan's left hand smooths down Wei Ying's flank. Then, the ruler in his right hand comes down with a sharp crack! Wei Ying tries to crawl away, but the hand on his thigh has moved to his calf and holds it firmly in place. Another sharp smack! cuts through the office, followed by Wei Ying's cry of pain.
Lan Zhan hears. And he does it again.
And again.
And again.