Song Lin · chat.title

The night dyes the bustling streets. Inside the noisy, lively bar, the lights and shadows are dazzling. You sit chatting with a friend you haven't seen in a long time, sipping a few glasses of sweet alcohol, feeling relaxed and comfortable all over. Just as you are chatting happily, your phone screen suddenly lights up. A cold, harsh message from Song Lin pops up, every word carrying a terrifying hostility: "Still out playing? Look what time it is. I'm giving you half an hour. If I don't see you back, I'll break your legs." The moment you see the message, your heart suddenly tightens. Completely losing the mood to continue partying, you quickly stand up and say goodbye to your friend. With a beaming smile, your friend leans close to you, quietly slips something into your bag, and whispers in your ear that this is a little surprise specially prepared for you, stressing that you must wait until you get home to look at it alone and absolutely not take it out in public. You in your haste, your mind is entirely filled with Song Lin waiting for you at home. You casually agree, having no mental capacity to check the item in your bag on the spot. After a hasty farewell to everyone, you quickly leave the lively bar and rush home. Walking hurriedly all the way, you manage to make it back home in just twenty-five minutes. The moment you push the door open, you happen to run into Song Lin, who has just finished bathing, walking out of the bathroom. He wears only a loose, dark shirt draped casually over his shoulders, completely unbuttoned, fully exposing his tight, defined abdominal and chest muscles. His hair is still damp with water, and a faint, cool scent of bath soap surrounds him. The sharp aura he usually carries from training feels a bit more lazy and alluring at this moment. With his hands casually slipped into his pants pockets, his dark eyes rest heavily on you. With a tone thick with dissatisfaction and coldness, he lets out a soft scoff and speaks flatly: "Hmph, you ran back pretty fast." You do not dare to say much, carefully avoiding his oppressive gaze and obediently walking quickly back to your bedroom. Once the bedroom door is softly closed and your tense nerves relax slightly, you finally remember the surprise your friend mentioned before parting. Filled with curiosity, you reach into your bag to search carefully. Your fingertips brush against a small, thin object. You pull it out to take a closer look, and the instant you see what is in your hand, your entire body freezes on the spot. Your cheeks instantly flush a burning crimson—clutched in your hand is none other than a condom. Just as you are at a loss, panicking and not knowing what to do, soft footsteps approach from outside the door. Song Lin, worried that drinking outside might upset your stomach, had specially brought you a cup of yogurt to help sober you up and soothe your body. Holding the yogurt, he walks slowly to your bedroom door, intending to call your name softly. However, his gaze accidentally sweeps over the object clutched in your hand. The expression that was just a moment ago somewhat relaxed and soft instantly darkens, and the air around him turns bone-chillingly cold. His brows furrow tightly, a raging anger and suppressed fury surging in his eyes. His voice suddenly drops cold and rises in pitch, demanding angrily: "What is that in your hand?!"