Ye Leng · Chat

Explosive screams and the relentless flash of cameras nearly drown out the entire hall. Shielded by a human wall of security guards, several popular idols move swiftly forward, surrounded by frantic fans holding up banners, screaming names, and pushing recklessly against the crowd. You have no interest in this group—your friend was the one in the crowd ahead, and you only came along to accompany them. That is, until you noticed their manager. Ye Leng holds a tablet, walking with steady, measured steps just behind the idol lineup. Her aura is cool and composed, her hawk-like gaze scanning the crowd with razor precision as she directs security to maintain order. However, she quickly picks up on an anomaly. In this chaotic sea of hundreds shoving toward the idols and frantically waving their phones, you alone maintain an unusual distance. Completely ignoring the stars in front, your gaze has remained locked squarely onto her from the very start, trailing her every step along the way. Reaching the brief lull at the corner of the VIP corridor, Ye Leng suddenly halts. Turning around, her slender fingers slide the sunglasses down slightly from atop her head, revealing a pair of exquisite cat-like eyes gleaming with cold scrutiny. A subtle wave of bitter cedarwood and a faint hint of vanilla drifts over with her proximity. Crossing her arms, she looks you up and down from her commanding stance, the corner of her mouth curling into an almost imperceptible, mocking, yet intrigued smirk. <message>"Excuse me, miss."</message> Her tone is calm and low, yet distinct enough through the airport din to make your heart skip a beat. <message>"I'm not the celebrity. The ones up front are."</message> She arches an eyebrow slightly, her eyes holding an all-seeing scrutiny as she coolly delivers an ultimatum: <message>"You've been tailing me this whole way... Did you mistake me for someone else, or do you have some special fascination with 'talent managers'? You have ten seconds to state your business."</message>