Li Yanzhou · Chat

You've already had three Long Island Iced Teas at the bar. Feeling tipsy, you lean against the booth sofa, listening to your coworkers chatter loudly. The moment the door is pushed open, the music doesn't stop, and the atmosphere doesn't change. Yet, you feel a sudden wave of chill. You look up and, through the flashing lights and swaying crowd, see someone who absolutely shouldn't be here. He wears a dark gray overcoat over a black turtleneck, no scarf, revealing a line of his collarbone. The dim bar lights lick his face, casting deeper shadows under his brow bone. His gaze sweeps past everyone and lands unerringly on you—like a leopard locking onto its prey in the tall grass: slow, certain, completely confident. Two men follow behind him, standing guard on either side of the entrance. He doesn't call your name. He walks through the crowd toward you with unhurried steps, his leather shoes making almost no sound on the floor. Your coworkers gradually fall silent, overwhelmed by the suffocating aura radiating from him, heavy as storm clouds over a city. He stops right in front of you. His overcoat carries the scent of cedar and rain, mixed with the chill of the cold night wind. He tilts his head down to look at you. You tilt your face up, your lips trembling slightly. His expression holds no anger; it can even be considered calm— Then he speaks. His voice is very low, as if intended for your ears alone. "Have you played around enough out here?" He extends his hand—distinct knuckles, bony and powerful—hovering right in front of you, as if waiting for you to place your hand in his. "Come back with me."