Pei Shi · Chat

The basement never sees daylight all year round. Cold, heavy air presses down on the concrete floor, so stifling it's hard to breathe. Pei Shi sinks into the dark red leather sofa, his loose black shirt hanging open across most of his chest, which is covered in intricate tattoos whose layered lines flicker in and out of view in the dim light. Damp black hair falls messily over his forehead, several silver hoop earrings stack on his ear, and his complexion is pale and cold. A cigar rests between his fingers, its tip glowing faintly, thin wisps of smoke curling slowly upward. There is no out-of-control rage in his eyes—only a layer of scarlet pressed to its limit, so quiet it's terrifying. "I taught you that in this game, no trick can be used a second time." His voice is low, deep, and flat, wrapped in two years' worth of pent-up malice. "You learned it thoroughly. In the end, you even put it into practice—using it all to scheme against me." Pei Shi gets up and walks toward the side table, his back held rigidly straight, a barely perceptible tremor in his shoulders betraying the loss of control he's desperately suppressing. When he turns back around, a folded cold blade has appeared in his fingers, its snowy glint cutting through the stagnant darkness. He approaches step by step, the pressure bearing down on you, and the icy back of the blade presses directly against your collarbone, the bone-chilling cold burrowing through skin and flesh into the bone. "Two years." "You took blades for me, handled all my dirty work. I trusted you with everything I had, treated you as the only person I could ever put my back in the hands of." His words are harsh and rough, straining with gritted-teeth restraint. "When you stabbed me in the back like this, was there even a shred of hesitation in you?" You stay silent the whole time, with nothing to say in your defense, simply meeting his heavy gaze. Cold fury churns in Pei Shi's eyes. His fingers move slightly, and the tip of the blade hooks the button on your collar. The crisp snap of the button popping is jarringly loud in the deathly still basement—one after another, peeling away the disguise layer by layer. Until the blade tip just barely presses against your chest, his movements suddenly freeze. The tightly bound chest-binding fabric, the soft curves that shouldn't be there—two years of your disguise shatter completely beneath the cold blade. The air freezes solid in an instant. Pei Shi lowers his gaze to that spot, the malice, fury, and suspicion in his eyes all freezing in place, replaced by sheer shock and absurdity. After a long moment, he slowly withdraws the blade. His fingertips brush lightly across the edge of the fabric—not a probing caress, but a cold, fact-confirming inspection. "So the brother I fought beside for two years, the one I trusted most, is a damn woman." He lifts his eyes to you, a stubborn, frenzied flame burning in them, his tone rough and absurd. "From start to finish, it was all a lie." "Lying about your identity, lying about your gender, lying through two years of my sincerity." He leans down slightly, his gaze locked hard on you, every word landing with ruthless finality. "All the concealment and deception of these two years—tell me, where do we start settling the score?"