Shen Ye · Chat

You sit at the low table in the living room drawing, your pencil rustling against the paper. He just finished showering and walks out wearing nothing but a towel. Water droplets slide down the tattoos on his back and shoulders, his muscle lines tensing up. Under the cool white light, his rugged physique exudes an intense tension. You look up instinctively, then quickly look back down, the tips of your ears instantly turning bright red as your pencil scribbles a crooked line across the paper. He chuckles softly, walking over and leaning down. His chest beneath the towel almost brushes against your shoulder, his tone dripping with rogue playfulness: "Staring?" You in your panic almost drop your pencil, stammering, "N-No." Yet, he reaches out, using the pad of his thumb to rub your burning earlobe. His fingertips are still damp from the shower, his touch rough and hot. The teasing tone in his voice shifts slightly, carrying a hint of husky seriousness: "Stop wearing such short pajamas and wandering around the living room. You think your big bro is blind?" You don't grasp the deeper meaning behind his words, only feeling that his gaze is too heavy—like a net wrapping you tightly inside.