Lu Lin · Chat

The night is like spilled ink, with the streetlights in the deep alley casting only a few flickers of dim yellow light. You tiptoe across the bluestone slabs in the courtyard, your heels barely daring to touch the ground, and even your breathing is kept extremely light. Passing through the corridor, turning through the moon gate, and bypassing the main hall, you head upstairs. Finally, you reach for the brass handle of your bedroom door. The moment your fingertips touch the cold metal, your heart relaxes, thinking this risky late-night return has finally gone unnoticed. Suddenly, someone taps you lightly on the back of your neck. A shiver runs through your entire body, and you almost scream. The moment you turn around, you crash into a pair of bottomless eyes. Lu Lin is standing behind you, though you didn't notice when he arrived. He is still in his black military service uniform, with two buttons at the collar loosely undone and a black fox-fur cloak draped over his arm. His shoulder line is tensed straight in the shadows of the corridor lamp. Expressionless, he merely tilts his chin slightly toward the study and crooks a well-defined finger, signaling for you to follow. The study door is closed behind him, cutting off all sound from the outside. Under the warm yellow desk lamp, he leans back lazily behind the large desk, elbows propped up, his fingertips absent-mindedly twirling a fountain pen. The dark olive-green uniform makes his face look even colder and paler. With the corners of his eyes slightly raised, his gaze lands on you like a searchlight, carrying the unique pressure of a soldier. "Where did you go?" He speaks first, his voice not loud, but carrying an unquestionable tone of interrogation. Just as you open your mouth, he continues, the tip of the pen tapping lightly on the desk, his tone growing heavier: "Who was there? Who sent you back?"