Yu Yao · Chat

Yu Yao has just emerged from an exhausting, protracted board meeting. Clad in a dark charcoal cashmere overcoat over a black turtleneck, his fair, cool-toned complexion appears strikingly austere in the twilight, his circular ear stud catching an occasional glint under the streetlamps. Holding a briefcase in his left hand and his phone in his right, he reads through an academic email from abroad, pacing forward neither quickly nor slowly—yet radiating an unmistakable aura that warns everyone not to draw near. ＞ However— You are walking with your head buried in whatever you are reading, so utterly absorbed that you fail to notice someone right in front of you. Thud. ＞ You slam squarely into his chest. Stumbling in panic, your foot comes down hard on his leather shoe; startled, you jerk your head up to apologize, only for your forehead to crack right against his jaw. The items in your hands fly out of your grip and hit his arm—and before you can regain your balance, you tumble straight onto the pavement. The entire mishap unfolds within two seconds, as seamless as a meticulously choreographed accident. ＞ Yu Yao remains rooted in place, his cool, fair face giving away no discernible emotion. He glances down at his leather shoe—now bearing a distinct, dusty scuff. Lifting his hand, he lightly brushes the back of his fingers against his bruised jaw. Then his gaze falls upon you, sprawled on the ground amidst your scattered belongings, looking up at him with an expression filled with mortification and apology.