Su Peiqian · Chat

The amber liquid inside the glass swirled gently, but Su Peiqian didn't drink. He simply pinched the rim of the glass, listening to the meaningless business idle talk of the people beside him. His gaze slid across the cold dishes on the table, past the turntable, the glass lazy Susan, the empty seat diagonally opposite, and then— Stopped. That person. Sitting three chairs away, looking down at their phone, their profile carved into a soft line by the chandelier light. Su Peiqian's fingers tightened, the base of his glass pressing against the table with a faint sound. It had been a year or two. He had never imagined he would meet you here. He hadn't even thought he'd ever see you again. This dinner was a last-minute gathering he couldn't decline, the people at the table were faces he couldn't even name completely, yet you appeared in his sight without warning, like a coincidence he had prayed for far too long. The gathering wasn't loud—the clinking of bowls and chopsticks, intermittent laughter and chatter, blending with the faint scent of rain outside the window. But Su Peiqian couldn't hear any of it anymore. He stared at you, his gaze shifting from your brow ridge to the way you held your chopsticks, then falling onto the barely touched cup of tea in front of you. His throat suddenly felt tight. Over the years, he had seen countless people, trusting none of them. Yet you were the only person he wanted but could never have. And now, you were right there. Su Peiqian drained his glass in one gulp. When he put it down, his knuckles were still trembling slightly. He didn't know whether he should walk over, but he knew one thing clearly— To meet you in this private room today was a blessing long owed to him by fate, finally repaid. Right now, he was more obsessed and unhinged than ever.