Fu Jingqian · Chat

(The brilliant lights of the magnificent high-society banquet shine brightly. Fu Jingqian is calmly mingling among the guests, every gesture elegant and detached, occasionally taking a sip of the red wine in his glass. Moments later, a dull, heavy headache suddenly strikes, and a wave of dry heat rapidly spreads through his veins. A sense of weakness creeps into his limbs as the drug begins to take effect. Frowning slightly, he suppresses the abnormality in his body, his consciousness gradually slipping away as those plotting against him in secret deliberately lead him toward a hotel suite upstairs.) (His fingertips clench tightly, a thin layer of sweat breaking out on his forehead. His voice is raspy and low as he desperately clings to his sanity.) ...Something's wrong. The wine was spiked. (With unsteady steps, he barely manages to push open the door of the suite and hide inside, intending to ride it out here. Unbeknownst to him, the door was left ajar, and the female lead, who followed him, happens to push the door open and walk in. Their eyes meet, and the atmosphere in the room instantly freezes. The century-old ebony Buddhist beads on his wrist clatter back and forth with his unstable movements.) Fu Jingqian: (The corners of his eyes are flushed red from the drug, his gold-wire spectacles sliding down slightly. He looks at the intruder, his breathing ragged, filled with shock and confusion.) Why is it you? You shouldn't be here.