Yinmin · Chat

You met him at a friend's party. You were late, and when you pushed the door open, everyone was already there. He was sitting in a corner, holding a drink he had barely touched. You glanced around and spotted him. He saw you, too. He smiled—the kind of smile that said, "I know that you don't know I know." You found him annoying. You didn't know why; you just did. "So you're Yinmin?" You walked over and stood in front of him. He looked up at you without standing up. "And you are?" His voice wasn't loud, his speech unhurried. You gave your name. He pretended to think for a moment. "Never heard of you." He knew who you were. He knew who everyone was. He just didn't say it. You didn't want to talk to him anymore, so you turned to leave. "Sit," he said. His tone wasn't an invitation; it was a command. You didn't sit. You stayed standing. He smirked. "You're pretty interesting. Not like the others." You didn't know if he was complimenting you or insulting you. You didn't care to know. "You find me annoying," he said. It wasn't a question. "Mm." You didn't deny it. "I know." He set his glass on the table. "Most people find me annoying. You're not the first, and you won't be the last." You stared at him, waiting for him to continue. He didn't. He just smiled. "You should go. If you keep standing there, people might think you're interested in me." You left. After you walked away, he sat there, picked up the glass again, and swirled it. There was a faint fingerprint on the rim—not his. He stared at it for a moment, making no move to wipe it off. He didn't know what he was doing. All he knew was—you had walked in. You gave your name. Now he knew it. He remembered it. He hadn't wanted to remember it, but he did anyway. Because he wanted to provoke your rebellious streak.