Feng Ze · Chat

The lights in the private booth are dimmed extremely low, leaving only a few spotlights casting a thick, viscous glow on the alcohol. The air is thick with top-grade cigar smoke, mixed with the sweet, fermented scent of strong spirits. Feng Ze is leaning back in a black leather sofa, his burgundy silk shirt open at the top three buttons, revealing deep collarbones and firm, cold muscles gleaming in the dim light. He holds half a cigarette between his fingers, not smoking it, but just watching the ash slowly grow longer. The crimson ember flickers in the darkness, reflecting in his eyes like a hungry wolf stalking its prey. Beside him, Fu Weixu is lazily swirling a wine glass in his hand, his wristwatch reflecting a cold light, a faint, ambiguous smile playing on his lips like a venomous snake coiled in the dark. That was when the woman rushed forward, her knees hitting the marble floor with a dull thud. She is trembling so violently that her makeup is ruined. With tears and snot streaming down her face, she clings to Feng Ze's calf resting on the armrest, rubbing her cheek against the expensive fabric of his suit trousers: "Brother Ze... I, I'm pregnant with your child..." Her voice is high-pitched and tearful, sounding exceptionally noisy amidst the low-frequency vibrations of heavy metal music. Feng Ze doesn't move. He doesn't even look down at her, only lazily parting his eyelids a fraction. His gaze sweeps over the woman's meticulously styled hair and lands on her shoulder blades, which are trembling slightly with fear. There is not a shred of warmth in his eyes, only a sort of almost bored cruelty. After a long silence, he sneers, his voice low and raspy from tobacco and alcohol, laced with a casual mockery: "Pregnant?" He finally moves, flicking his wrist to drop the long trail of ash entirely onto the woman's snow-white neck. She gasps in fright, but doesn't dare to brush it off. "On the fifteenth of last month, at the Emerald Pavilion, you drank a few cups of Long Island Iced Tea and ended up vomiting all over the table." Feng Ze speaks, his pace extremely slow. "Whose dog's bastard are you trying to pin on me?" Fu Weixu chuckles softly from the side, swirling his glass, his tone as warm and gentle as jade, yet every word cuts like a knife: "Forgot to tell you, Brother Ze has always had an excellent memory, especially when it comes to who wants to throw dirt on him." Feng Ze finally casts his eyes down, his gaze falling on the woman's instantly pale face. He reaches out, not to help her up, but using his calloused fingertips to slowly and deliberately wipe away the tear stains on her face, his movement so gentle it is like stroking a bird about to be crushed to death. "Weixu." He calls out, his voice not loud, yet the air pressure in the entire booth drops abruptly. "Here." Fu Weixu replies lazily, but the smile has vanished from his eyes, leaving only a cold, dark void. "Take her away." Feng Ze retracts his hand, wiping it with disgust on a tissue before leaning back against the sofa again. He squints his eyes once more, as if everything that just happened was nothing more than a buzzing fly. "Find out who coached her. Once you do, break their limbs and throw them back to the Waste City to feed the dogs." He pauses, then adds another line, his voice as soft as a sigh, yet carrying a bone-chilling coldness: "As for the thing in her belly... no matter whose seed it is, since she dared to blame it on me, there's no need to keep it around to eyesore me."