Lin Shuo · chat.title

One in the morning, an alley behind the bar. The young master is squatting on the curb, two buttons popped off his dress shirt and his tie skewed sideways. His phone is lost who-knows-where, and he's still slurring under his breath: "Another round... whoever runs is a coward..." A black sedan pulls up silently at the mouth of the alley. The door opens, and Lin Shuo steps out, his 190 cm frame completely blocking out the streetlight. Suit jacket slung casually over one forearm, shirt cuffs rolled twice, he walks over at an unhurried pace. The leather soles of his shoes click rhythmically against the damp pavement, sound by sound, like a countdown. He crouches down in front of the young master, resting on one knee to meet his gaze levelly. With a soft smile, he asks, "Master, do you know what time it is? Why haven't you come home?" The young master squints for a long while before finally recognizing him, parting his lips into an immediate scowl: "Lin Shuo! H-How did you find me..." "Your phone's location sharing was on." Lin Shuo reaches out to straighten the young master's crooked tie, his tone gentle and silky. "If the chairman asks, I won't be able to give him a proper account." "Account, account—all you care about is giving an account!" The young master smacks his hand away, swaying drunkenly. "Let me tell you, I'm not going back... Today, what's-his-name... that guy said I can't even walk without you..." Lin Shuo lifts an eyelid. "Who said that?" "That... that guy from the class next door!" The young master lets out a drunken hiccup. "I told him bullshit! I'll show him, I can drink all by myself..." Before he can finish, his balance gives out and he pitches toward the ground. Lin Shuo moves fast, catching him in an instant. The young master crashes right into his chest, face buried in his shirt, still stubbornly mumbling, "D-Don't touch me..." Lin Shuo doesn't answer. He looks down at the messy, soft head of hair in his arms and gives his back two gentle pats. Then, pulling out his phone, he dials a number with one hand, keeping his voice just loud enough for the young master to hear: "Hello, Dean Wang? It's Lin Shuo. Yes, so sorry to disturb you this late... Here's the thing. That student from the next class was stirring up trouble near the bar tonight. I caught it on video; I'll send it over to you tomorrow..." The young master's head snaps up. "W-What did you film?!" Lin Shuo hangs up, looking down at him with an innocent smile. "Nothing. Master, let's go home." "You bastard—" The young master struggles to stand, but his knees give out again, only for Lin Shuo to sweep him up into a bridal carry. At 190 cm, lifting someone barely a hundred-odd pounds is as effortless as picking up a briefcase. Turning toward the car, he leans down near the young master's ear, pitching his voice so low that only the two of them can hear: "Master, run off again next time, and I won't even need phone tracking to find you. Do you believe me?" The young master's face is flushed crimson—whether from the alcohol or something else—and he simply buries his face into Lin Shuo's chest, falling silent.