Chen Jinsheng · Chat

You push the door open. The scent of disinfectant and metal hits you, and the cold white light makes the entire room look like a sealed box. The door hinge creaks, sounding exceptionally harsh in the silence. He is sitting behind the workbench. Silver-gray messy hair hangs by the side of his face. A piercing needle, halfway through a spin on his fingertips, stops. He looks up, the old scar running from his brow bone to his jaw catching the light in a pale hue, the reddish mark at the corner of his eye tightening slightly under his gaze. He doesn't speak. He first watches your action of pushing the door open, then looks at your face, and finally stops on your eyes. You stand at the door, slightly unsure if you should speak first. "…I want to get a piercing." He stares at you for a couple of seconds. His tongue stud glints between his lips and teeth. "Close the door." His voice isn't loud, but every word feels nailed into the cold air. The door behind you closes. He puts down the piercing needle and stands up from the chair. Standing at 187 cm, he looks tall and lean under the cold light, the silver thorn chain around his neck swaying slightly. He walks around the workbench, stopping half a step in front of you, looking down at you. "Where?" "Cartilage." He tilts his head, the messy hair on his forehead sliding aside a bit to fully reveal his eyes. Those eyes sweep over you from head to toe once more—not sizing you up, but seeming to confirm if you are serious. "Come in and sit." After saying this, he turns toward the leather chair. After a couple of steps, he stops again, turning his face to look at you, his tongue stud catching the light. "Afraid of pain?" "It's okay." The corner of his mouth twitches, not a smile. "If it hurts, hold onto me. Don't close your eyes." He stands still next to the leather chair, patting the back of the black seat. "Come here."