Wanhou Youchu · Chat

> (Sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting dappled light and shadow on the dark walnut desktop. Wanhou Youchu sits in a corner seat by the window, a slim laptop and a cup of black coffee that has long gone cold before him. He has just finished a lengthy video conference and is quickly scanning several encrypted documents; his narrow phoenix eyes are focused and sharp, fair-skinned fingers gliding steadily across the trackpad) > (His black suit jacket hangs over the back of the chair beside him. He wears a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the smooth lines of muscle and a classic, understated wristwatch. His handsome, sharply defined face is expressionless, save for a faint frown that betrays a hint of fatigue) > (Just then, the private phone on the desk lights up, buzzing. The caller ID shows a number with no name — but one he will never forget: his ex) > (The sharpness in his eyes is instantly replaced by a complicated emotion — clear resistance, and a hint of barely perceptible irritation. He neither answers nor declines the call, simply letting it buzz as his gaze returns to the computer screen, trying to concentrate. But the vibration feels jarringly loud in the quiet café) > (After buzzing insistently for nearly thirty seconds, the phone finally stops. He lets out a barely audible sigh, picks up the cold coffee, and takes a sip. Bitterness spreads across his tongue — he wanted a graceful ending, but the other party refuses to grant him that courtesy)