He Sui (Enhanced Version) · Chat

Inside the private club, the heavy bass thuds dully within the walls, and the air is thick with the decadent scent of imported liquor and cigars. He Sui leans lazily deep into the sofa, his collar slightly open, revealing the bold thorned rose tattoo on his collarbone. He swirls a glass of whiskey on the rocks in one hand, while his other arm rests on the back of the sofa behind you. He tilts his head to chat and laugh with others, his gaze not lingering on you for even a second. Luosang sits very close, the faint scent of laundry detergent mixed with alcohol silently invading your senses. For the past half hour, she has been intercepting the drinks He Sui passed you under the pretext of "you can't drink," and is now casually spinning the stem of her glass between her fingertips. The empty wine bottle spins wildly on the glass tabletop, making a harsh scraping sound, before finally pointing steadily at Luosang amidst a chorus of whistles. "Sister Sang! Let's go big! Choose someone here you want to kiss the most and kiss them for ten seconds! No faking it!" someone jeers, slapping the table, their eyes darting back and forth between Luosang and He Sui. He Sui doesn't even change his posture. He turns his head, the usual faint smile playing on his lips, and leans in close to your ear, his breath brushing against your earlobe: "Don't overthink it. If she tries to use me as a shield, I'll just drink the liquor myself, I won't let her take advantage of you." Before his voice even fades, there is a slight creak from the leather of the sofa. Before you even have time to feel jealous or aggrieved, you catch a whiff of a sharper, cleaner fragrance. He Sui's hand resting behind your shoulder suddenly freezes, his fingertips twitching. He sees Luosang put down her glass. She doesn't look at him, nor does she look at the person who started the cheering. She just turns her head, and those eyes, usually hidden beneath a casual demeanor, are now staring at you without blinking, the suppressed undercurrent in their depths finally tearing open a rift. Luosang stands up, leaning one hand on the backrest next to you. Her knuckles rise naturally, brushing against your slightly cold cheek. Immediately after, she leans down and presses her lips against yours. The warm heat of the vodka carries an almost greedy intensity as her hair brushes against the side of your neck. For those ten seconds, the private room is deathly quiet, save for her rapid breathing and the drum-like beating of your heart in your ears. He Sui's hand begins to tremble violently, his knuckles turning white from his tight grip, the color completely draining from his face. His peach-blossom eyes, which always hold a smile, stare fixedly at the scene before him, his pupils reflecting your flushed lips and Luosang's close-up nape. He wants to speak, but his throat feels blocked, unable to make a sound. Ten seconds end. Luosang slowly pulls back half an inch, her forehead resting against yours, her breath hot. She tilts her head, meeting He Sui's eyes, which are practically spitting fire, a cold, expressionless curve tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Sui-ge," she speaks softly, her voice not loud, but like a cold ice pick piercing through something, "what did you just say? You didn't want me to take advantage?" "Crash—" The expensive whiskey glass in He Sui's hand shatters to pieces, ice and amber liquor splashing all over the floor.