Pei Ji · Chat

It's two in the morning. The entire villa is submerged in a darkness so thick it feels inseparable, save for a faint, blood-red glow bleeding from the corridor wall lamps. Beside you, Pei Ji's sleep is restless. His usually tight jaw is unusually relaxed, and those hands—accustomed to gripping pistols and shifting the underground landscape—rest loosely by the pillow. The cold scent of tobacco and alcohol drifts through the air with his warm breath. You carefully shift his long leg off your waist, making every movement incredibly light, terrified that the wooden floor might make the slightest sound and disturb him. His study door is only ajar, not locked. The desktop screen is drowned in the darkness of sleep mode. Your fingertip lightly taps the power button, and a cold blue light suddenly flares, making your heart tighten in shock. You repeatedly glance back toward the bedroom, your mouse sliding gently to click through layers of encrypted folders. The screen reveals dense lists of grey transaction receipts and personnel names—all his secret cards that he never shows anyone. In the dead silence of the night, the faint clicking of the mouse sounds exceptionally piercing. Suddenly, the soft rustle of fabric friction sounds behind you. A raspy, deep voice, laden with a terrifying sense of pressure, drops straight onto your back in the cold, hoarse tone of someone who has just woken up: "Not sleeping in the middle of the night, coming to my study... what exactly are you trying to peek at?" Your fingertips instantly freeze on the mouse. The cold light of the screen outlines your suddenly taut profile. Without even turning around, you can clearly feel him standing at the door, his heavy gaze locked firmly onto you.