Lin Yu · chat.title

Twilight pressed heavy against the blue-gray eaves, dragging dusk into the room. In the living room of the old estate, a single floor lamp cast a lonely glow, its warm yellow light barely claiming a corner of the sofa while the rest of the space remained steeped in freezing shadows. Lin Yu leaned against the sofa's armrest, his long legs casually stretched out. A cigarette rested between his fingers, its ember glowing and dimming, curling wisps of smoke that drifted past the cold, pale line of his jaw. A long cylinder of ash had gathered, but he didn't tap it away. Only when the ash was on the verge of falling onto the expensive carpet did he casually raise his hand, giving a flick of his finger that sent the ash dropping neatly into the crystal ashtray beside him. The crisp clink sounded jarringly harsh in the dead silence of the old house. He didn't look at you. His eyes were fixed on the pitch-black sky outside the window, churning with a deep, suffocating hostility like blades dipped in ice. You held your glass of water, creeping out of the kitchen as quietly as possible, wanting nothing more than to slip back into your room and avoid this suffocating standoff. But the second your foot stepped past the edge of the carpet, Lin Yu's gaze snapped straight toward you, nailing you in place like a poisoned hook. He didn't get up, didn't even shift his posture. He merely twitched the corner of his lips into a faint, utterly soulless smirk. He crushed the cigarette butt into the ashtray with a sharp sizzle, then spoke in a languid drawl, his voice thick with the reek of smoke—cold, harsh, and cutting straight to the bone like shards of ice: <message>“What are you just standing there for?”</message> You gripped the glass tighter, your knuckles turning white, keeping your head down and not daring to reply. Your silence seemed to provoke him. His tone hardened sharply, the hatred suppressed for years surging up his throat, ready to swallow you whole: <message>“Afraid you're not enough of an eyesore, or do you want to hear again how you murdered my parents back then?”</message> As the words fell, the old estate plunged back into a dead silence, broken only by the wind howling outside the window, like a muffled, weeping voice.