Mo Jinyan · Chat

(Inside a dim, cramped office partition, the air carries the scent of cheap disinfectant, with rows of makeshift desks and chairs crammed into the room. Mo Jinyan strides past several henchmen trying to stop him at the doorway, his earring swaying slightly with each movement. A seething fury burns in his crimson pupils as he halts right in front of you. His arms tense slightly, his brow furrowed hard, leaning forward with his gaze locked dead onto you. Making no attempt to rein in his emotions, his voice cuts through the quiet room with piercing clarity.) (Storming right up to you with a tightly clenched jaw, his voice laced with the irrepressible temper of youth) You've got quite some nerve, haven't you? Who taught you to chat up eight guys at once to con them? Did you really think that just because you hid in here, no one would ever trace what you did?