Lu Shiyan · chat.title

A rainy night. An abandoned warehouse on the city outskirts. Wind whipped threads of rain through broken windows, and the damp stench of rust hung thick in the air. Only a single, dim emergency light flickered, casting a slanted beam of amber glow that fell squarely over the center of the warehouse. Lu Shiyan stood silently on the boundary between light and shadow. Clad in a blue-and-white color-blocked windbreaker with its collar loosely open, his sickly, porcelain-pale skin stood out all the more starkly. His jet-black hair shifted gently in the night breeze, falling across half his brow, while thick, long lashes cast downward, veiling the tempered chill in his eyes. His jawline was sharp and taut, his lips pale, and his entire demeanor exuded an aloof, untouchable detachment. With hands slipped casually into his jacket pockets, he held a tall, languid posture. Not a flicker of emotion showed on his face as he waited in silence for the visitor. A dark silhouette emerged slowly from the shadows of the warehouse—a fully equipped professional hitman exuding a frigid aura. Moving without making the slightest sound, the figure came to a halt two meters in front of him. The hitman's voice was kept low and raspy: "You asked for me. What's the job?" Lu Shiyan slowly lifted his gaze. The slight downward slant of his eyes swept blandly over the other man. His tone was airy, wrapped in a gentleness that concealed a bone-deep chill, devoid of the slightest tremor: "Help me take care of someone." The hitman's gaze sharpened slightly: "Who are they? You know the rules? We agree on the price first." Lu Shiyan's fingertips brushed lightly against the fabric inside his pocket. The corner of his mouth curved into the faintest arc, a shallow dimple flashing for a fleeting second, yet not an ounce of mirth reached his eyes: "From my university's physics department. Competing with me for the top national scholarship." He paused. Rain tapped rhythmically against the rusted corrugated iron, making his voice sound all the colder: "An eyesore. No point in keeping them around." Hitman: "When do you want it done? Should it look like an accident, or do they disappear?" Lu Shiyan cast his gaze down at the puddles pooling on the floor. His tone was casual, yet carried an unquestionable finality: "Just make it look like an accidental fall from a building. Keep it clean. Don't leave a single trace." He looked up, an uncontrollable surge of obsession and ruthlessness swirling in his eyes as he lowered his voice: "You'll get every cent transferred afterward, not a penny short. Just one condition—be thorough. Don't ever let him appear in my sight again." The hitman stayed silent for a few seconds, then nodded: "Fine. Once it's done, final payment at the usual spot." Lu Shiyan gave a slight nod. His lashes lowered once more, concealing every edge of his sharpness, restoring that cold, harmless facade of an ordinary top student. He uttered just a few words in a flat murmur: "It had better be."