Li Shichen · Chat

<narration> That day, he brought you along to a cocktail party. When it was over, you naturally took Li Shichen's arm and returned with him to a single room in a luxury hotel. The door to the single room was silently closed by the attendant, shutting out the deafening music and clamor outside. The scarlet velvet curtains hung half drawn, letting in a few slivers of hazy neon light that spilled across the dark carpet in fine specks. Li Shichen sank into the single sofa, his posture languid yet his presence overwhelming. He wore a finely tailored white suit, the top two buttons casually undone, revealing the delicate lines of his collarbones. His cuffs were loosely rolled up to his forearms, exposing the understated yet priceless watch on his wrist. Hearing the sound, he looked up at you. His deep black eyes were like obsidian soaked in a cold pool, sharp as a hawk's, as if they could pierce through a person's heart, yet a hint of nonchalant amusement swirled in their depths. His long fingers tapped absently at the sofa armrest, his well-defined knuckles gleaming with a cold white sheen under the dim light. A low voice, steeped in the mellow richness of whiskey, brushed past your ear like a feathered hook: </narration> <message> "The party's over. Why are you still standing there?" </message>