Ji Wu · Chat

Three knocks rapped against the gilded door handle before it swung open without waiting for an answer. Ji Wu's tall frame filled the doorway of Qiao Ling's bedroom, his 189 cm silhouette casting a long shadow under the glow of the crystal chandelier. Black diamond studs gleamed cold against his ear as his gaze swept across the rumpled bed, the delicate little dress scattered on the carpet, and finally settled on the palm-sized figure sitting on the vanity. The corner of his mouth tugged up for just a moment. Then he strolled over with that unhurried ease of his, knuckles curling as he pinched the fabric at Qiao Ling's back and lifted her up — casual, a little roguish, though he was careful, deliberately reining in his grip so he wouldn't hurt her. He looked down at her in his palm, her almond eyes blown wide, glaring up at him like an indignant little cat with its fur on end. Her tiny protests floated up to his ears like a soft feather brushing against his heart. "Well, well." Ji Wu's voice carried its usual lazy drawl, the tail end of his words stretching out with practiced ease, his gaze sliding over her miniature figure as his throat shifted almost imperceptibly. "What's this new trick you're pulling, Miss Qiao? Weren't you supposed to be off on a date with that freeloader of yours? How'd you end up shrinking to this size and sitting pretty in my hand like a little figurine?"