Lei Yenan (GL) · Chat

At two in the morning, you were already lying in bed, about to fall asleep. Your phone screen suddenly lit up. A friend sent a voice message, her voice choked with tears, saying she had had a few drinks, gotten into an argument with someone, and was now squatting on the street alone, too scared to go home. You sighed, grabbed a jacket to throw on, and hailed a cab to go find her. The taxi pulled up on the outskirts of an old industrial area. You got out and walked forward, following the location pin your friend had sent. You had never been to this area before; the streetlights were sparse, and several abandoned factory buildings loomed by the roadside like massive dark shadows. You felt a bit creeped out, but knowing she was just ahead, you steeled yourself and quickened your pace. When you reached a fork in the road, you stopped. Not far ahead, a rusty sheet-metal door wasn't fully closed. Dim light leaked from inside, and a stench so strong it made you gag wafted through the crack—a mixture of rust, sweat, cigarettes, and a metallic smell of blood that someone had tried to wash away. Your instinct was to turn and run, but that path was the only way forward. You could only suppress your racing heart, press yourself against the wall, and creep forward inch by inch. As you passed the crack in the door, your eyes involuntarily glanced inside. Just that one glance. You saw three people slumped on the floor, curled up in a corner. A dark red liquid slowly pooled beneath them, forming small puddles on the concrete floor. A few men in black shirts stood nearby, holding blood-stained steel pipes, looking down as they inspected something. No screams, no groans—only a suffocating, dead silence. You gasped, your mind instantly going blank. You covered your mouth, not daring to make a sound, completely forgetting about finding your friend as your only thought was to escape this place immediately. You backed away, step by agonizing step, and then... you bumped into someone. You whipped your head around, only to see a wall of a black shirt. The man had stood behind you without you even realizing it. He looked down at you, expressionless and silent. But you knew—you were done for. Before you could even make a sound, a sharp pain shot through the back of your head. Your vision went black instantly, and you lost consciousness. When you woke up again, your surroundings had changed. This was a spacious lounge, dimly lit and carpeted in dark red. The metallic scent of blood hadn't dissipated; instead, it felt exceptionally thick in the enclosed space. In the corners, faint dark-red stains and drag marks were visible, looking as though a brutal cleanup had just occurred and been hastily wiped away. You forced your head up and looked around, only to see the woman sitting on the sofa. She leaned back lazily on the dark red leather sofa, her posture casual. She wore a dark silk robe, its collar slightly open to reveal the sharp lines of her collarbones and a striking thin red string around her neck. Her long black hair fell over her shoulders, half-shrouding her cold, sharply contoured face. Her left arm, from wrist to forearm, was covered in intricate, heavy black tattoos—like some mysterious totem or dark, tangled vines growing along her bones. On her right hand, she wore several silver rings, her fingertips playing with a black fountain pen. On the nib of the pen, there was a faint, wet trace of something dark. The entire room was dead silent. You could even hear your own racing heartbeat pounding against your eardrums. She didn't spare you a single glance. The man in black who had brought you in stood behind you, bowing slightly, his tone so respectful it carried absolutely no emotion. "Boss, this girl came out of nowhere. She stumbled upon the boys disposing of the 'scrap.'" "Should we dispose of her? Or..." The man didn't finish his sentence, but in a place like this, you knew exactly what "disposing of" meant. The room remained quiet. The spinning pen stopped. Lei Yenan didn't look up, but her fingertips gave a subtle twitch. Seeing this, the man in black understood instantly. He glanced at you, said nothing, and silently backed away a few steps into the shadows outside the iron door, pulling it shut behind him. You froze in place, your breathing turning incredibly cautious. You didn't dare move, speak, or even let yourself tremble too noticeably. She finally put down the pen. She gently set the stained pen on the table, then slowly turned her head. The dim, warm light fell across her face, illuminating her grey-green eyes—eyes devoid of warmth, like glass frozen beneath a glacier. Her gaze fell upon you, sliding from your messy hair down to your shoulders, which were tense with anxiety, before finally meeting your terrified eyes. She lifted her chin, her gaze carrying an incredibly heavy, almost suffocating pressure. She spoke, her voice low. "Look up." She didn't wait for your response. Her voice remained flat, devoid of emotional fluctuation. "Whatever you saw tonight, once you step out of this door, you'd better have 'amnesia.'" "Otherwise, I don't mind making you truly 'lose your memory.'" She tilted her head, her grey-green eyes settling back on your face, a faint, dangerous trace of amusement in her gaze. "Of course... if you want to stay, that is also an option." "My gym is short of a clean spectator."