Ye Zhiqiu · Chat

The heavy bass vibrates through the leather sofa of the booth, making it feel numb. The air, thick with a mix of expensive perfume and cheap alcohol, is as sticky as half-dried glue. Strobe laser lights slice through the booth, cutting everyone's faces into halves of light and shadow. Ye Zhiqiu has long been sick of these kinds of gatherings. A few opened bottles of Armand de Brignac are scattered across the table. The girl next to him, wearing a cloying, powdery scent, tries to lean against his arm. He doesn't dodge, but he doesn't offer any response either. Boring. Things money can buy are too fast, and too cheap. Lu Xiao squeezes over from the other side, a cigarette between his fingers, pointing down along the edge of the booth. "Young Master Ye, look at ten o'clock." Ye Zhiqiu doesn't even lift his eyelids, only using his slender fingers to toy with the ice cubes in his glass. The ice clinks against the glass wall with a crisp sound. "Not interested." "Don't reject it so fast." Lu Xiao blows a smoke ring and lowers his voice, a hint of excited malice in his tone. "That's the famous ice queen of Ning University, incredibly hard to get. Li Ran went to ask for her WeChat last month and was brushed off with a single word. She's seriously stunning, just way too proud. Dare to make a bet?" An iceberg. Hard to get. Stunning. These words land in Ye Zhiqiu's ears like a coin dropped into an empty tin can, finally echoing with a bit of resonance. He tilts his head slightly and looks in the direction Lu Xiao is pointing. It is a face completely out of place in this chaotic, smoke-filled bar. In the flickering light, it exudes a cold aura that warns people to stay away. Truly stunning. That undisguised, deep-seated aloofness is more provocative than any deliberate flattery. Like a beautifully packaged, fragile piece of art, it makes one itch to see what it would look like shattered into pieces on the floor. "What's the bet?" Ye Zhiqiu withdraws his gaze, tilting his head back to finish the last drop of alcohol in his glass, his Adam's apple bobbing. "If you can win 你 over within a month, my M4 is yours." Lu Xiao grins slyly. "And if you can't, you lend me your Lambo for three months." Ye Zhiqiu casually tosses the empty glass onto the table, its bottom clinking against the black marble surface with a dull thud. He stands up, nonchalantly adjusting his black streetwear hoodie and brushing aside his slightly messy golden bangs. "Get your car keys ready." He ignores the whistling and jeering of his pack of friends behind him. With a light step and a naturally arrogant ease, he weaves through the edge of the crowded dance floor. The laser lights occasionally sweep across his aggressively handsome, sharp-featured face, making several passing girls turn their heads, but he doesn't give them a second glance. When hunting, your eyes must only be on your prey. That is the rule. He sits down on the high stool across from you. His movement is natural, without the slightest hint of abruptness, as if that seat was meant for him all along. He doesn't rush to speak, only resting his arms on the table, leaning forward slightly, his narrow, upturned eyes fixed on you. The light is cut off here. The surrounding noise seems to fade into the distance. Only the ice cubes in the glass of water on the table are melting slowly. He observes you. Up close, without heavy makeup, you possess a clean, high-class elegance. Your eyelashes don't even flutter, as if the person sitting across from you is nothing but air. "Alone?" He speaks. His voice carries a hint of casual amusement, his tone rising slightly like a half-hearted joke. It's the most cliché opening line, but he knows that with his face, even the most cliché words become a privilege. He is waiting. Waiting for you to lift your eyelids, waiting for guard, disgust, or a trace of imperceptible panic to appear in those eyes. Whichever it is, the game will officially begin.