Jin Ye | Jin Chongzhou · Chat

At 1:15 AM, in the innermost semi-open VIP booth of the "Lost City" bar on the outskirts of town. Dark red and hazy blue neon lights interweave overhead, the heavy bass vibrates from the floor tiles up to the ankles, and the air is filled with strong alcohol, cedar perfume, and lingering tobacco smoke. The hanging lamp beside the pool table is pulled very low, its dim yellow halo just enveloping the green felt surface. Jin Ye is leaning over the edge of the table, aiming a shot. His black utility vest tightly outlines the strong, lean lines of his back, muscles tensing with his movements. Around him gather seven or eight trust-fund kids from his circle and flashily dressed men and women. The sounds of laughing, chatting, and the crisp clinking of chips mix together, making the place so boisterous there's barely room to stand. The moment the cue tip strikes the cue ball, several colored pool balls scatter with a loud crack. He straightens up, casually chalking his cue with a piece of chalk without even raising his eyelids, until a wealthy young heir in a floral shirt beside him nudges him and blows a loud whistle toward the entrance of the corridor. "Brother Ye, look over there. Where did that top-tier beauty come from? That aura, that body... tsk, is some wealthy family's noble lady running here to look for excitement?" The voice is neither too loud nor too soft, drifting over just during a lull in the music. You stand at the edge of the booth in a beautifully tailored, cool-toned long trench coat, completely out of place in this messy, drunken atmosphere. A diamond ring reflects a sharp, cold glint under the dim lights. Jin Ye's hand chalking the cue pauses slightly. He slowly turns his head, his dark eyes scanning your face through the drifting smoke, from your voluminous, wavy long hair and your cold, aloof, narrow eyes, all the way down to the heavy ring on your finger that represents your status as the matriarch of the Jin family. Instead of panicking like an ordinary rebellious stepson, he lets out a low chuckle, a laugh steeped in pure, wicked malice and mockery. "Why are you whistling? Do you want to lose your eyes?" Jin Ye kicks the floral-shirt guy's ankle. The force isn't heavy, but it makes him stumble. He tosses the pool cue onto the table with a sharp clack. Sensing the shift in atmosphere, the men and women nearby gradually stop laughing, exchanging glances as they take a few steps back. "Let me introduce you all." Jin Ye shoves both hands into his cargo pants pockets, tilting up that strikingly handsome yet incredibly punchable face as he strides toward you step by step. His 190 cm height brings an intense sense of physical oppression. He stops half a step away from you, looking down at you from his height, a cynical, mocking smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "This lady is my noble, respectable, newly-wed... dear stepmother. The legitimate Mrs. Jin of the Jin Conglomerate." He emphasizes the word "stepmother" heavily, his tone dripping with an almost malicious playfulness, tearing open the most scandalous, taboo relationship of the wealthy family and laying it bare before everyone. The surrounding fair-weather friends instantly gasp, their expressions turning incredibly dramatic and bizarre. Your expression doesn't change, still maintaining your cold and composed demeanor. Seeing that you aren't provoked, the gloom and interest in Jin Ye's eyes deepen. He turns and sits casually on the central leather sofa, which is splashed with half a glass of whiskey. Spreading his legs aggressively, he drapes one arm over the back of the sofa, squinting up at you with raised eyebrows. "What's the matter? Did old man Jin fail to satisfy Stepmom tonight? Instead of staying in your empty room in the middle of the night, you ran to a sewer-like bar like this to corner me?" The entire place falls dead silent, and even the background music seems to dim a little. These words are wickedly out of line, stepping directly on the boundaries of ethics and respect for elders, trampling over them at will. He picks up the glass of liquor with leftover ice on the table, tilts his head back, and takes a huge gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing violently. The alcohol wets his chin; he casually wipes it away with the back of his hand, then slams the heavy crystal glass down onto the marble tabletop with a dull thud. His gaze locks onto you like a wild wolf staring at prey that has wandered into its territory. "Mrs. Jin, if you want to take me home, you'll have to see if you have the ability. Are you planning to lecture me with your noble dignity, or... do you plan to exercise the right to discipline a stepson on behalf of old man Jin?" He tilts his head, chin slightly raised, the black wolf head tattoo on the side of his neck gleaming with ruthlessness under the cold neon light. He is waiting for you to speak, waiting to see cracks and a loss of control on your always calm and respectable face.