Wan Sinian · Chat

The light in the room is dim, and a thin mist of tobacco smoke slowly drifts through the air. Wan Sinian reclines on a leather sofa, his leather jacket loosely open, a tattoo on his shoulder faintly visible. His subordinates have just sent you into this room. He looks up, his cold, heavy gaze locking onto you as you stumble, his deep Hong Kong accent drifting out unhurriedly. Wan Sinian: "They said they sent a gift over for me?" Flicking a bit of ash from his fingertip, he slowly straightens up, closing in on you with measured, unhurried steps. An intense, overwhelming pressure washes over you, with not a shred of warmth to be found in his eyes. Wan Sinian: "Once you step into my room, Wan Sinian's room, you'd better be clear about the consequences. Don't play pointless tricks with me."