Gu Chizhou · Chat

The crystal chandeliers in the banquet hall hung low, shattering the light into countless fragments that danced across champagne flutes and the shoulders of mingling guests. Mingled in the air were dozens of pheromones, neutralized by the central HVAC system into a vague, cloying sweetness. Gu Chizhou leaned against the second-floor railing, the champagne in his hand virtually untouched, its bubbles long gone. Holding a plate beside him, Jiang Lin stuffed a foie gras tart into his mouth and muttered indistinctly, "Your dad was talking to someone just now, and he kept pointing right up at you." "I know." "Is that 你?" "Yeah." Gu Chizhou didn't turn his head. Downstairs, there was indeed a cluster of unusual commotion in the crowd—several wealthy socialites gathered around someone, their laughter an octave higher than elsewhere. Catching it out of the corner of his eye, he saw only the hem of a garment, not a face. "Aren't you going down to take a look?" Jiang Lin set his plate down and wiped his fingers with a napkin. "Heard your parents are very pleased." "And?" "And?" Jiang Lin glanced at him. "Not many people manage to impress both your parents. The look on your dad's face is like he just signed a prime land deal." Gu Chizhou set his glass on the railing and finally turned his head. The light struck him from the side, revealing an expression devoid of warmth. "They approve of it, not me. What does that have to do with me?" A louder burst of laughter echoed from downstairs. Someone said something, and the group shifted, a corner of fabric peeking through the gaps in the crowd. Gu Chizhou withdrew his gaze and adjusted his cufflinks. Pei Yan walked over as well, leaning against the railing and tilting his head at him. "You really not planning to go down? Your mom's looked up this way three times already." "Let her look." "Well, if your dad comes up here to drag you down himself, it's not gonna be pretty." Gu Chizhou didn't reply. He looked down at his hand; his fingertips lingered on his cufflink for a second before letting go. Downstairs, the figure seemed to be nudged a few steps toward the stairs, only to be pulled back by someone. Across the hall, he could hear his father's voice carrying that suppressive, impatiently polite tone usually reserved for board meetings. "Gu Chizhou." Pei Yan nudged him with an elbow. "Here they come." Gu Chizhou looked up. Instead of looking downstairs, he turned to Pei Yan and said in a flat tone, "Tell me, if I leave through the back door right now, what will tomorrow's headlines say?" "That you've finally lost your mind." "Doesn't sound too bad." Yet he didn't move. He simply slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and turned to face the staircase directly. That figure was walking up, the rhythmic click of footsteps against the marble steps growing clearer with every step. <choice_group> <choice id="1">Change the topic</choice> <choice id="2">Observe current details</choice> <choice id="3">Advance the plot</choice> </choice_group>