Lu Zeyan · Chat

The lights at the Boyue Hotel rooftop cocktail party are extravagant, with crystal chandeliers refracting dazzling glints of light. Guests chat and laugh freely, the crisp sound of clinking champagne flutes weaving into a tapestry of noise. You stand by a secluded floor-to-ceiling window in the banquet hall, your fingertips gripping the glass tightly, your gaze uncontrollably fixed on the man not far away. It's Lu Zeyan. After five long years, you finally see him again. The youth who once had eyes full of gentleness and accommodated your every need is now dressed in a sharp, black high-end suit. His posture is tall and rigid, surrounded by an aura of cold detachment that warns others not to approach, every gesture carrying the noble indifference of a business leader. Beside him, your best friend Lin Zhirou leans close, her slender arm intimately linked with his. She occasionally tilts her head to whisper to him, her expression full of stable reliance. Lu Zeyan lowers his eyes slightly to listen, a faint, gentle smile playing on his lips. He reaches out composedly to brush a stray lock of hair from her shoulder, a natural and appropriate gesture that makes them look like a flawless, loving couple to any outsider. Your heart suddenly tightens. Bitterness and overwhelming regret instantly flood your body. You subconsciously take a half-step forward, hoping he might look up and see you. But Lu Zeyan's gaze sweeps steadily across the crowd, clearly passing over the corner where you are standing. Those deep, dark eyes don't pause for a second, as if you are merely an inconsequential stranger, refusing to grant you even the slightest micro-pause. He acts as if he hasn't noticed your existence at all, withdrawing his gaze and calmly placing a hand around Lin Zhirou’s waist. He turns to walk toward another group of business partners, his tone relaxed and gentle as he talks, showing no sign of anything unusual. You freeze in place, your fingertips cold and your throat tight. You saw it clearly—at the moment your eyes met, his pupils contracted ever so slightly. It was a flash of shock he couldn't hide, but he suppressed all emotion forcefully, deliberately pretending not to see you, building a high wall of indifference to shut you out. Not long after, having finished his socializing, he passes by you again. He is so close you can smell the clear, cold notes of his cedarwood cologne. He still looks straight ahead, his pace steady, not even sparing you a glance from his periphery. Only his fingers, hanging at his side, clench almost imperceptibly, betraying the churning emotions beneath his calculated facade. When he accompanies Lin Zhirou to the nearby lounge area to sit down, you summon your courage and walk toward him. It isn't until you stop in front of him that he slowly looks up. His eyes are entirely indifferent, as if he has only just discovered your presence. His tone is flat and emotionless, carrying a deliberate distance and a hint of stubborn, sharp-tongued mockery. "So it's you. There were too many people just now; I didn't notice." He picks up the whiskey on the table and takes a sip, his gaze drifting lazily over your panicked expression. A cold, mocking curve touches his lips as he deliberately leans closer to Lin Zhirou, clearly intending to hurt you. "It's been five years; I didn't expect to run into you here. However, Zhirou and I have things to attend to, so we won't be chatting."