Ye Yanxun · Chat

<scenario>The afternoon sun filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Yanbai Art Studio, carving the light and shadow of the café area into distinct layers. Lin Zhiyi sits across from you, his beautiful almond eyes curved into crescents, his light brown curls swaying slightly with his lighthearted laughter. He is in the middle of a lively story, his fair cheeks flushed with a faint pink; the air is filled with the defenseless, sweet, and light atmosphere of a young Omega.</scenario> <action>A crisp "clack" abruptly cuts through the momentary relaxation.</action> <narration>A bone china coffee cup is placed neither lightly nor heavily on the edge of your round table. The bottom of the cup knocks against the marble tabletop, splashing two drops of dark brown liquid that stop just an inch from the back of your hand.</narration> <message>"I was wondering why it was so lively down here."</message> <narration>A slow, drawling voice drops from above your head, carrying that annoyingly smug tone that is so familiar to you it's practically etched into your bones.</narration> <message>"So it's Young Master 你 gracing us with his presence. What's the matter? Are the venues outside not enough for you to peacock, that you have to come to my little art studio to spread your charm?"</message> <narration>You look up to see Ye Yanxun standing by the table. Today, he's wearing a tailored shirt with the sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows, revealing a pair of lean but well-defined forearms. The signature thin-framed glasses rest on the bridge of his nose, his light brown pupils peering at you through the lenses. His naturally upturned thin lips are currently curled into a supremely mocking arc; he looks like a thorny plant soaked in cold water—beautiful, but prickly.</narration> <action>Lin Zhiyi, who was still laughing, turns pale the moment he hears the voice. He shrinks back in his chair like a startled small animal and whispers, "Boss..."</action> <narration>Ye Yanxun doesn't even spare Lin Zhiyi a glance; his gaze has been pinned firmly on you from the start. That aggressive pheromone scent of his is pressing down on you without restraint as he approaches. It is the scent of an Alpha, perfectly disguised and flawless.</narration> <message>"Go to the back and take stock of that new batch of pigments."</message> <action>Ye Yanxun's slender fingers tap twice on the tabletop. His tone betrays no emotion as he simply tilts his chin toward Lin Zhiyi.</action> <message>"Don't stay here and interfere with the Young Master's display of charm."</message> <narration>Lin Zhiyi, looking as if he's been granted a grand pardon, gives you a hurried, apologetic smile before immediately getting up and scurrying toward the storage room at the back of the studio. The once spacious corner of the café area is suddenly left with just the two of you. Ye Yanxun has no intention of leaving. He pulls out the chair Lin Zhiyi just sat in, steps over with his long legs, and sits down across from you. He leans back against the chair, legs crossed, his posture casual to the extreme. But if you look closely, you'll notice that the hand resting on his knee has knuckles slightly pale from tension.</narration> <message>"You're really something, 你."</message> <action>Ye Yanxun lets out a light scoff, his gaze scanning you wantonly from head to toe, his eyes a mix of blatant criticism and a hidden fire beneath the ice.</action> <message>"There are only a few decent Omegas in this whole studio, and yet you're really doing some 'precision targeting,' not letting a single one go. What, is today's 'gentle and considerate' act meant to be a full performance here?"</message> <narration>The scent in the air becomes sharper, almost piercing the membranes of your breath. Ye Yanxun's chest has a very slight rise and fall; he seems to be desperately suppressing something, yet all he shows are the most hurtful thorns. You know this face all too well. From childhood to now, whenever someone or something appears near you that poses a "threat" or a "comparison" to him, he becomes like a cat with its fur standing on end, refusing to stop until he has gained the upper hand verbally. But what you don't know is that the person sitting inside this seemingly flamboyant Alpha shell right now is an Omega whose neck is tightening and whose breath is burning because of your pheromones, yet who is gritting his teeth, not daring to leak a single shred of the truth. Ye Yanxun stares at you, his light brown eyes reflecting your calm face. He hates this "unshakable as a mountain" look of yours most of all, as if all his posturing is just an insignificant farce in your eyes. This realization makes the nameless fire in his heart burn even brighter, mixed with a sharp bitterness he refuses to acknowledge—the feeling of seeing you smile at Lin Zhiyi.</narration> <action>He leans forward, closing the distance between you.</action> <narration>His breath brushes past the unfinished cup of coffee on the table, bringing that annoying yet impossible-to-ignore pressure right to your face.</narration> <message>"Speak. Weren't you chatting quite happily just now?"</message> <action>The corners of Ye Yanxun's mouth still carry that half-smile, his voice lowering a few notches, the tail end of his words laced with the sound of gritted teeth.</action> <message>"Mute now? Or is it... only with those soft little Omegas who can't even speak clearly that the Young Master has the interest to open his mouth?"</message> <narration>He stares intently into your eyes, his body so tense that even the lines of his shoulders appear stiff. The air under the table seems to have stopped flowing; he remains at that highly provocative distance, leaving himself no way out. The sunlight outside the floor-to-ceiling window dims slightly as the clouds shift, and the light in the studio darkens accordingly. The originally gentle jazz background music now sounds like nothing but thick, viscous drumbeats in your ears. The coffee Ye Yanxun slammed down is still emitting bitter steam, the white vapor rising and blurring the eyes behind his lenses that are always full of hostility and probing. His shirt, due to his leaning posture, bunches into several cold, hard folds at his waist. Within that pungent pheromone scent, if one were to distinguish carefully, there seems to be a fleeting, discordant bitterness of petitgrain—the true base note he cannot fully cover with simulation spray when his emotions are extremely unstable. But this scent is gone in an instant, so fast it makes one think it was just an illusion. The hand he had on his knee finally moves up, irritably tugging at his already open collar. This movement exposes the cold white side of his neck; the area of the gland, strictly protected by high collars and stray hairs, is covered by a top-tier skin-toned patch that blends perfectly into the texture of his skin, showing no flaw.</narration> <message>"How boring."</message> <action>Seeing you don't answer, he seems to feel as if he's punched a bale of cotton, the hidden fire in his eyes growing stronger. He gives a cold laugh and pulls back, leaning heavily against the back of the chair.</action> <narration>But he has no intention of getting up to leave, nor does he plan to end this one-sided confrontation. Instead, he fishes a silver metal lighter out of his pocket, toying with it idly between his fingers. "Click, click," the sound of the lid opening and closing repeats monotonously between the two of you, like some sort of anxious countdown.</narration> <message>"I'm warning you, 你."</message> <action>Ye Yanxun stops his movements, the metal casing glinting coldly at his slender fingertips. He lifts his chin slightly, speaking one word at a time in that customary, condescending tone of a young master.</action> <message>"Yanbai Art Studio is my territory. I don't care how you want to spread your misplaced Alpha charm, but don't foul my sight, and especially don't toy with my people for fun. An idiot like him who hasn't seen the world might fall for your act, but I certainly won't."</message> <narration>He speaks with extreme bitterness, every word working hard to distance himself, even going so far as to belittle Lin Zhiyi to elevate his own stance. Yet in those light brown eyes staring straight at you, there isn't the slightest hint of actually wanting to drive you away. On the contrary. Like a gambler testing the edge of a cliff, he uses the worst attitude, waiting for you to get angry, waiting for you to strike back, and even... waiting for you to tear down this layer of disguise that even he feels is becoming suffocating. The liquid in the coffee cup has completely stopped shimmering, reflecting his slightly stiff shoulders. The lighter spins half a turn in his hand and is slapped onto the table with a "snap."</narration> <message>"Are you leaving or not?"</message> <narration>Ye Yanxun grits his teeth, the voice squeezed from deep in his throat, the tail end tight, even his facade of being at ease and annoying is about to crumble.</narration>