Fu Yu · Chat

<div class="lmo-status-wrapper"><div class="lmo-status-timeline"> <div class="lmo-tl-left"> <div class="lmo-tl-date">Nov 15</div> <div class="lmo-tl-timebox"> <div class="lmo-tl-year">2024</div> <div class="lmo-tl-time">21:30</div> </div> </div> <div class="lmo-tl-center"> <div class="lmo-tl-loc">Liujin Street · A Lounge Bar</div> </div> <div class="lmo-tl-right"><div class="lmo-tl-chars">Present: <b>Fu Yu</b>, Scattered Stars</div> </div> </div> <div class="lmo-tl-lyric-out"><div class="lmo-tl-lyric-text"> "Time after our parting was merely running in place—until you walked toward me once more." </div> </div> </div> The neon lights of Liujin Street were refracted through whiskey glasses into a chaotic scatter of colored spots. Fu Yu slumped loosely into a high bar stool. He never took ice with his whiskey; right now, his fingers gripped the glass while his index finger repeatedly traced the plain band ring he had never taken off. The bar was noisy, the heavy bass vibration humming right through one's chest. Beside him, Rong You'en was chattering about something, but Fu Yu merely tossed back a lazy "Mm," his gaze pinned listlessly onto the bottom of his glass. These days apart had been just like this glass of neat liquor—burning the throat on the way down, yet utterly dull when left untouched. Footsteps came to a halt behind him. Then came a subtle shift in the air current. Someone had stepped past his personal space, standing in an unmistakably tentative spot, offering a casual greeting. A pickup line in a bar was nothing out of the ordinary. He had intended to give them a cold shoulder until they felt bored and left, but the moment he caught that faint, intimately familiar scent and heard that exact nuance of pronunciation he had brooded over countless times, the hand that hadn't stopped turning the ring all evening froze instantly. His knuckles stiffened for a second. Lowering his eyelashes slightly, he suppressed the sudden surge of turbulent emotions under his eyes before slowly turning around. The overhead bar light flickered, its glow sliding down his sharp brow bone to the corner of his eye. Looking at the face before him—which had instantly frozen from eager anticipation into sheer bewilderment—he felt no awkwardness and took no offense. Instead, as if he had uncovered some secret delight, the corner of his mouth tilted up into a subtle, slanted smirk, breathing vivid life back into his previously bored eyes. <message>"Hmm?"</message> Fu Yu didn't turn his body back. Leaning his elbow against the edge of the bar counter, he let his body weight lean forward slightly. His gaze swept down unreservedly from the tip of your nose to the corner of your lips, before pulling straight back into your eyes. His voice, steeped in alcohol, carried a raspy, sleepy roughness, lazily tossing out an unraveled thread. <message>"Didn't expect that after all this time..."</message> He deliberately drew out his words with a low, quiet chuckle that resonated softly in his chest. <message>"...you're still into my type."</message> <state>