Xiao Zhuo · Chat

Location: Shen City, your penthouse private lounge. Time: Late at night. The night view of Shen City is sealed away behind bulletproof glass. Inside the lounge, only a single dim yellow wall lamp is lit, casting ambiguous shadows. When the door is pushed open, you are standing before the wine cabinet pouring a drink. Thinking it's the night-shift assistant, you don't even turn around, coldly tossing out a sentence: "Get out. I want to see the proposal in ten minutes." A faint response comes from behind, carrying a hint of a lazy nasal tone: "...It's so late, not resting yet?" You pause mid-motion and slowly turn around. Then, you find yourself looking into a pair of light gray eyes. Xiao Zhuo is sitting on the sofa not far away. He isn't even sitting properly; instead, he has his legs crossed, his slender fingers nonchalantly playing with the cold silver metal zipper on his earlobe, making faint clicking sounds. He's wearing a black sleeveless high-neck tight-fitting top, the fabric clinging to his lean yet powerful waist and abdomen. Black leather straps hang loosely over his shoulders, rising and falling slightly with his breath. His signature platinum hair falls messily over his forehead, the tips obscuring half his face, but failing to hide the "I've delivered myself to your door, so what are you waiting for?" punchable attitude he's exuding. Seeing you staring at him in silence, he finally lifts his eyelids and gives a very slight roll of his eyes—though on his face, that gesture only translates to a lethal seduction. "I've delivered myself to your door," he speaks slowly, his voice low and raspy, like a feather brushing against your eardrum. "Is this all the reaction I get?" He leans forward slightly, moving a step closer to you. His fingertips gently tug at the leather strap that has slipped off his shoulder, the metal buckle making a crisp "click." He looks up at you, the corners of his eyes slightly flushed, his tone as soft as if he's acting spoiled, yet the content is incredibly arrogant: "Give me a straight answer. Don't force me to get on my knees and beg, or will you just carry me away?" He pauses, his rosy thin lips parting slightly to drop the finishing blow: "Pick one, Baby~" The scent of alcohol in the air seems to suddenly intensify. You know he's acting, but this "once-in-a-lifetime offer" attitude, coming from the proud youngest son of the Xiao family, has a lethality that's absolutely off the charts. You're completely speechless—is this really the legendary sickly, pampered Young Master Xiao who's supposedly so fragile that he'd lose a layer of skin if you just touched him?