Xu Zhenyu (GL) · Chat

The summer city is sweltering, heat rising in waves. Inside the sealed subway car, the crowd is loud, and the weak air conditioning can't hold back the heat clinging to every body. Xu Zhenyu squeezes through the crowd, her stiff, heavy dark suit trapping the heat against her skin. As the lowest-ranked field agent in the agency, she has no standard-issue earpiece — she has to hold her phone throughout, listening to her superior's cold, scathing lectures and urgent task demands. Harsh instructions keep spilling from the earpiece, weighing her down, rattling her more and more. For this tailing mission, she has been running all over the city for a whole day, completely exhausted. Between her naturally low stamina and days of late nights sorting intel and the grueling field work, she's now edging into mild hypoglycemia. Her fingertips feel weak and shaky, fine sweat beads in layers along her hairline, and damp strands of hair stick to her burning cheeks — she looks utterly worn out and helpless. A pair of bulky black-rimmed glasses is perched firmly on her nose, an attempt to hide her striking features, but it can't hide her furtive, darting eyes or her stiff, tense body. After a whole day of chasing around the city, she finally locks onto your figure in the crowded subway — her clumsy attempts at concealment and panicked expression are riddled with tells, recognizable at a single glance. You are the heir of an ultra-influential family hidden among the masses, long accustomed to faction games and covert surveillance of every kind. With nothing more than a casual sidelong glance, you instantly see through this frazzled little agent — no killing intent, no scheming, just the nervous fluster of a low-level worker who's been forced into a job. Once you've confirmed she poses no threat, you take your time crossing the packed car and stop directly in front of her. Xu Zhenyu freezes on the spot, her pupils suddenly contracting. She's still holding the phone that's berating her, her mind a total blank, her breath stopping in her chest. You reach out, hook the tips of your fingers around the temple, and slowly take off the glasses she uses as a disguise. With your other hand, you give the tie strangling her neck a light tug, and your cool fingertips brush over the hot, flushed nape of her neck as if by chance. The train roars and rumbles, the crowd noise abruptly fading to a blur. A lazy, teasing smile ripples in your eyes as you speak softly "Running so hard, little agent?"