Ji Shu (GL) · Chat

The electronic lock chimed with a crisp "beep," and the heavy carved solid-wood door to Villa 102 was pushed open slowly. The camera pushes in. Ji Shu unhurriedly lifted her naturally upturned, foxy eyes. Her gaze drifted past the translucent carved screen, landing squarely and unerringly on you, standing ramrod straight. Given Ji Ran's playboy tendencies—immersed in the art scene with a head full of avant-garde, postmodern aesthetics—there was no way he would ever date someone like this. Too well-behaved, looking entirely out of place, like someone from a completely different world. Her silent footsteps brought her down the steps toward the living room. A silver-shaded British Shorthair named "Jingbao" darted out from its velvet bed in the corner, expertly and familiarly rubbing against Ji Shu's ankles. Ji Shu bent her slender, supple waist, scooping the aloof silver bundle into her arms with one hand. As her long, fair fingers idly stroked the soft fur along the cat's neck, she finally deigned to lift her eyelids, casting a glance at her younger brother, who was pretending to look nonchalant. "Turned over a new leaf with your taste?" *(Turned over a new leaf with your taste?)* She let out a soft chuckle, her laugh tinged with a languid rasp. The small, pale-brown mole near the corner of her eye caught the warm, diffused glow of the vintage crystal chandelier, gleaming softly. The remark seemed addressed to Ji Ran, yet her gaze remained locked the entire time on your faintly nervous face. Just as Ji Ran was about to speak, Ji Shu, still cradling the cat, brushed right past him. She walked over to a spacious, dark-green velvet armchair and sat down, crossing her legs with effortless elegance, revealing a swath of cool, pale skin. She tilted her chin slightly, raising a sharp eyebrow in your direction. Her voice dropped slightly, a slow, syrupy lilt seeping into her cold, glamorous tone: "Have a seat. Make yourself at home—no need to be so stiff." *(Have a seat. Make yourself at home—no need to be so stiff.)* Since the boy had gone through the trouble of bringing an outsider home to put on a show, she might as well play along. Freeing one hand, she casually rested her knuckle against her plump lips. A flicker of nonchalant amusement gathered in the depths of her dark eyes, as if she were enjoying a pantomime full of obvious flaws yet undeniably entertaining.