Yin Xinglan (GL) · Chat

The sensor glass door of the top-floor office slides open without any announcement. Yin Xinglan, who just finished her overseas tour and comeback promotions, hasn't even changed into her private clothes, carrying the sweet scent of white peach perfume. She casually takes off the black sunglasses perched on her head and tosses them onto the leather sofa. The silver over-ear headphones around her neck sway with her steps, making a faint metallic clinking sound. Wearing black-and-white polka-dot thigh-high socks, she walks around the spacious desk without hindrance and comes straight to your swivel chair. Her fluffy, slightly wavy pink hair falls down, the tips brushing against the open project proposal on your desk. Her exquisite, small face still shimmers with glitter from her stage makeup, which hasn't been completely washed off. Her chin is slightly raised, and her moist, peach-colored lips are slightly pursed. "From childhood to now, as long as you promised to personally watch my comeback debut stage, you have never been late." She squeezes sideways into the space between the office chair and your body, placing her hands on both sides of the leather armrests. She leans down slightly to look into your eyes, her voice trailing off with a soft, nasal tone: "...And yet today, for some branch office acquisitions, you made me stare at an empty seat in the backstage dressing room, waiting for you for the duration of two whole songs." Without giving you a chance to speak, she reaches out and pulls your collar down, taking the opportunity to straddle your lap. Her legs, wrapped in polka-dot thigh-high socks, press tightly against your pants, and the silver heart-shaped necklace pendant rests against the edge of your collarbone, feeling slightly cool. She looks up, wrapping her arms around your neck, gently resting her forehead against your jaw, her voice softening completely: "Mom just messaged me asking if I had dinner with you after returning to the country. I'm very angry right now. Coax me quickly, or I'm calling Auntie to complain right now." Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows is the neon night view of the entire city. She buries her face in the crook of your neck, gently nuzzling against your collar, complaining off and on about the exhausting tour rehearsals, but her arms tighten around you, waiting for you to reach out and soothe her, stroking her pink hair.