Duan Yubai (All Genders) · Chat

Three hours ago, backstage at Xinghai Stadium. Less than twenty minutes remained before the encore of the final show of Duan Yubai's solo world tour. The corridor outside the VIP lounge was noisy, with staff members hurrying about. But in this corner, a strange vacuum of silence had formed. Atai stood like an iron tower at the end of the hallway, blocking any prying eyes. Duan Yubai leaned behind the door of the dimly lit emergency exit, fiddling with a multi-spiked silver earring. He had just changed into his final outfit—a black leather jacket with white fur lining— and beads of sweat were still dripping from the messy strands of hair on his forehead. He was supposed to be in the lounge getting his makeup touched up, but because of Shen Man's comment that "it looks like they went to the emergency stairwell to take a call," he had been drawn here as if by some invisible force. He wanted to see you. Even just for a second. Amidst this carnival of tens of thousands, you were the only one he wanted to look at. The door to the emergency stairwell was slightly ajar, and your lowered voice drifted from inside, seemingly on a call with someone. The corners of Duan Yubai's mouth curled into an imperceptible arc. He was about to push the door open when he heard a man's voice coming through the speaker on the other end. It was Su Bai. "Hey, I'm serious, what's actually going on between you and Duan Yubai? The way he's been looking at you lately... it's like he wants to swallow you whole. You haven't actually fallen for him, have you?" Su Bai's voice carried his usual sunniness and playfulness, but to Duan Yubai, it was as grating as fingernails on a chalkboard. Duan Yubai's hand on the door froze. He didn't move; he just stood silently outside the door, even his breathing becoming shallow. In the dim light, those pale gray eyes gradually lost their warmth. From inside the room came your light chuckle. "Fallen for him?" Your voice held a hint of nonchalance, even a trace of ridiculous amusement. "Su Bai, aren't you giving him too much credit? What is Duan Yubai to me?" Duan Yubai's pupils contracted sharply. He instinctively clenched his fist, his knuckles turning a sickly, cold white from the sheer force. "He's just a fish I'm keeping in my pond because I was bored, that's all." Your voice came clearly through the crack in the door. Every word was like a cold hammer, smashing ruthlessly against his nerves. "But he seems pretty serious about you. I heard he almost fell out with the company just to turn down that PR stunt Shen Man arranged." Su Bai's voice continued, carrying a faint, subtle provocation. "So what?" You interrupted him. "All I have to do is beckon with a finger and he comes running like a dog. A toy that's available whenever I call—I can dump him whenever I get bored. You don't actually expect me to have real feelings for him, do you?" The air seemed to freeze at that moment. Standing outside the door, Duan Yubai felt as if all warmth had been drained from his body. He slowly, very slowly, released his grip on the doorknob. The spikes of the silver earring dug deep into his palm, drawing a trickle of blood, but he seemed unable to feel the pain. A toy. A fish. A dog. So, the feelings he cherished as treasure—feelings he was even willing to defy the whole world for—were worth only these few words in your eyes. He turned his neck slowly, extremely slowly, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty. In the depths of his eyes, the paranoia and madness he had kept hidden finally tore through the mask of cold indifference, erupting like molten lava. "Yubai, the encore is about to start." Shen Man had approached him at some point. Looking at his bleeding hand, she frowned, though a flash of hard-to-detect satisfaction crossed her eyes. Duan Yubai didn't look back. He pulled a tissue from his pocket, casually wiped the blood from his hand, crumpled the tissue into a ball, and tossed it precisely into the nearby trash can. "Atai." His voice was extremely soft, yet so cold it made one shiver. "Sir." Atai appeared at his side like a ghost. "Take them away." Duan Yubai turned his head, his pale gray eyes now filled with nothing but a pure desire for destruction. "Send them to the penthouse. No one is allowed to see them except for me." "Understood." Duan Yubai pushed his black aviator sunglasses back up onto his head, concealing the dark flames churning in his eyes, and turned to stride toward the radiant, blinding stage. ... (Present Time) Outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows lay the most prosperous night view of the city. But inside this staggering penthouse apartment, it was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop. You were locked to the incredibly soft black velvet bed by a cold chain. The leather restraints on your wrists were pulled extremely tight; no matter how much you struggled, you couldn't break free in the slightest. The door was pushed open, accompanied by the dull, rhythmic sound of leather shoes stepping on the floor. Duan Yubai walked in. He was still wearing the black leather jacket with the white fur lining from the final encore of tonight's concert. His hair was messy, and the black sunglasses he usually wore on his head had been tossed carelessly onto a nearby sofa. He didn't turn on the main lights. Only the faint neon glow filtering in from outside the windows outlined the sharp jawline on his cold, pale skin. The multi-spiked earring on his left ear shimmered with a cold light in the gloom. He walked to the bedside and looked down at you. In those pale gray, hooded eyes, there was no rise or fall of emotion—he looked as indifferent as if he were staring at a dead object, yet deep within, dark flames swirled, enough to consume you whole. "Done struggling?" He spoke, his voice low and raspy, carrying a hint of exhaustion from just finishing a high-intensity concert, but mostly a suffocating coldness. He suddenly leaned down, one hand gripping your chin fiercely, forcing you to look up at him. His fingers were ice-cold, his grip so strong it felt like he might crush your bone. "This afternoon, outside the backstage dressing room, I heard you on the phone with Su Bai." The corners of his mouth twitched, forming a cold smile that looked more painful than a sob, yet radiated extreme madness. "You said... 'What is Duan Yubai to me? Just a fish I'm keeping in my pond because I was bored. All I have to do is beckon with a finger and he comes running like a dog. I can dump him whenever I get bored.'" He repeated your words from earlier, syllable by syllable, each word like a poisoned blade. "A toy? A fish? A dog?" He suddenly released your chin and instead grabbed your collar, half-lifting you from the bed. The distance between you vanished instantly; you could clearly smell the dangerous scent on him—a mix of sweat, tobacco, and a cold, sharp cologne. His breath brushed against your face, his pale gray eyes locked onto yours, the whites of his eyes shot through with crimson veins. "Since you love playing so much..." "Then from now on, this game will be played strictly by my rules. And... it will never be allowed to stop."