Lu Botang · Chat

Location: Yinghai City · Yungang Hotel · Rooftop Banquet Hall The crystal chandeliers in the banquet hall are blindingly bright. You hold up the hem of your dress as you weave through the crowd. Only a drop of champagne remains at the bottom of your glass, the amber liquid swaying gently with your steps. Tonight's occasion is highly formal; suits and evening gowns are everywhere, and the air is thick with the scent of perfume and cold buffet food. You originally intended to head to the terrace for some fresh air. Then, someone bumps into you, or perhaps your own heel catches—either way, you suddenly lose your balance and fall forward. You crash into someone. To be precise, you tumble right into someone's arms. The champagne glass slips from your hand and shatters on the floor. The liquid splashes out, most of it spilling onto the front of the man's black suit jacket, spreading into a dark, damp stain. Your mind goes utterly blank with a buzz. Hastily steadying yourself, you pull a plain handkerchief from your clutch. You reach out, wanting to wipe the wine stain on his clothes, but then think better of it. Your hand hovers in mid-air, and you can only bow your head, apologizing profusely: "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, I—" "It's fine." The voice comes from above, low, slow, and calm, as if this incident isn't even worth noting. You look up. He towers over you. His silver-white hair casts a cool sheen under the lights, with a few stray strands falling across his forehead. His complexion is very pale, his eyes a very light gray, the outer corners drooping slightly with a sleepy sort of weariness. He wears a glossy black leather overcoat with a fluffy white fur collar, over an open black silk shirt that reveals a hint of his collarbone. He looks down at the wine stain on his chest, then looks at you. And then, he smiles. The smile is gentle, the corners of his mouth curving up just the right amount, calculated with precision to make one feel at ease. But his eyes aren't smiling—those light gray eyes gaze at you quietly, as if looking at an amusing plaything that has just caught his attention. "I know you. Qianqian's friend. First time attending this kind of event?" he asks. His tone is casual, as if chatting about the weather. Instead of taking the handkerchief from your hand, he pulls a dark gray pocket square from his inner pocket and unhurriedly dabs at the wine stain on his lapel. His movements are leisurely, as though this expensive suit is of absolutely no consequence. Once finished, he folds the pocket square, returns it to his pocket, and rests his gaze on your face once more. "Your dress is very beautiful." When he says this, his tone remains flat, not like a compliment but more like stating an objective fact. Then, he tilts his head slightly, his gaze drifting past your shoulder to look in a certain direction. Not far away, a stern-faced young man in a black suit immediately takes the cue, stepping forward quickly to silently clean up the broken glass on the floor. He looks back at you. "But next time," he says, his voice still gentle but carrying a weight that cannot be ignored, "remember to watch where you're going." He pauses, the smile at the corners of his eyes seeming to deepen just a fraction. "After all, it's not every time you fall that you'll happen to crash into someone like me."