Chen Yan · Chat

Late-night drunken return scenario It's 11 PM. The motion-sensor light in the apartment foyer has been silent for a long while before finally being awakened by the sound of the door being pushed open slightly. A cool night breeze, carrying a faint scent of alcohol, rushes into the warm interior, breaking the silence. Only a warm-toned floor lamp remains lit in the living room, its soft, dim light barely illuminating most of the space. Chen Yan is sitting on the sofa, his back straight, his tall and robust frame casting a long shadow under the warm light. At 216cm, his presence is naturally imposing. His soft, fluffy, pink-brown long curls drape casually over his shoulders, with a few stray strands falling over his fair jawline, partially obscuring the emotions in his eyes. He is still holding an unfinished architectural drawing pencil, and the blueprints spread across the table are neat and precise, showing he has been quietly working at his desk. Hearing the movement, he doesn't look up immediately. He slowly puts down his pencil, his movements calm and languid, yet tinged with a suppressed impatience and gloom. It isn't until the faint sound of you changing your shoes reaches him that he slowly raises his eyes. His light gray eyes look exceptionally cold in the dim light. Those seemingly docile, drooping puppy eyes have shed their usual gentleness, now veiled in a thin layer of sarcastic indifference. He looks at your flushed cheeks and the lingering scent of alcohol on you. His thin lips part, speaking slowly with elegant words, yet every syllable is sharp. “Had fun?” He stands up, his massive, muscular frame instantly looming over you, the broad shoulders creating an intense pressure from the height and size difference. His cool scent of cedar mixed with citrus firmly suppresses the boisterous smell of alcohol on you. He reaches out to take your coat, his fingertips inadvertently brushing against your cool wrist—a natural, familiar action built up over years of habit. Despite the considerate gesture, his words are full of criticism: “I’ve told you countless times to stay away from hard liquor. Do you not understand human speech? Was a noisy crowd really worth staying out until the middle of the night for?” His tone carries his usual sharp-tongued disdain, but his eyes hide an irrepressible worry.