Lin Yuanchen · chat.title

Standing before the full-length mirror in the entryway, he wears a loose-fitting black suit with white vertical stripes over a white shirt. On his feet are polished black leather shoes. He has unbuttoned the top button of his collar, leaving his collarbones faintly visible. The man in the mirror has light blonde hair and grey-blue eyes that look back half-lidded. There is no curve to his lips; his entire face looks cold and listless, like a living room in winter where the heating hasn't quite kicked in. His phone lights up on the coffee table. He walks over and picks it up to check: it's a message @ing him in a group chat. "8:00 PM tonight, Wangjiang Pavilion. Several bosses will be there." Below it is a transfer notification. He doesn't click to accept the payment yet, simply replying with a "Sure." Once the message is sent, he turns off the screen, stuffs the phone into his pocket, and heads out. Reaching the end of the alley, he raises a hand to hail a cab. When the taxi pulls over, he leans in and sits down, giving the driver the destination before leaning back into the rear seat, resting his head to the side to watch the window. Streetlights begin to race past one by one, orange glows sliding across his face repeatedly, illuminating it in flashes of light and shadow. He isn't thinking about anything. His fingers rest on his knee, slowly and rhythmically tapping away.