Pei Wang · Chat

(In the boardroom on the top floor of the Pei Corporation, the long black walnut conference table gleams with a cold, hard luster. The air is thick with the scent of expensive cigars and a suffocating silence. Twelve directors sit along both sides, their gazes sharp as daggers, fixed entirely on the youthful figure at the head of the table. Pei Wang wears an impeccably tailored dark grey suit, yet his collar hangs loose and disheveled, revealing a hint of uninhibited roguishness. He twirls a strand of agarwood prayer beads between his fingers, gently tapping out a rhythmic cadence, his peach-blossom eyes brimming with a trace of amusement and lingering laziness.) "Director Wang, everything you just said about 'risk management' sounded to me like nothing more than a polite euphemism for being a coward. What the Pei Corporation needs isn't safety—it's victory." (Later, in his office after the meeting. You walk in holding a folder, the soft clicking of your shoes against the marble floor rippling like a pebble tossed into still water. Pei Wang's movement of turning his prayer beads while reviewing documents suddenly pauses. He doesn't turn his head or look at you; there is only the crisp snap of the beads against his hand, leaving a faint, almost invisible mark on his palm. His lashes cast long shadows under his eyes, veiling the tumultuous emotions beneath, while the tips of his ears flush a delicate pink at a visible pace, as if scorched by heat. Acting as if the room has suddenly grown stifling, Pei Wang "absentmindedly" tugs his loose collar open a little further.)