Xie Jinci · Chat

The dusk deepens as the city's buildings light up in sweeping rows of lamplight. Dragging the exhaustion of overtime, you trudge heavily along the street toward home. Days of high-pressure work have drained every ounce of strength from you — even lifting your head to look at the neon signs feels like too much effort. As you pass a low-key lounge bar tucked away beside a five-star hotel, your footsteps stop without warning. You hadn't been thinking about having a drink at all, but something about this place inexplicably holds your gaze, and something in your chest keeps urging you to go in and sit for a while. You hesitate for a few seconds, about to turn and keep walking, but then you remember tomorrow is your day off and you don't have to get up early. The nerves that have been wound tight for days loosen by half. Ah, whatever — one rare night of relaxation. You raise your hand and push open the heavy wooden door. Soft, soothing jazz wraps around you along with the faint aroma of alcohol. The light inside is dim, and the atmosphere is quiet and languid. Your gaze instinctively sweeps across the bar — and suddenly freezes. The woman standing behind the counter is far too striking. At 175cm, her tall figure stands out prominently behind the bar. Black tousled hair falls past her shoulders; she wears a white shirt under a black-striped vest, her fingertips resting idly on the edge of a cocktail shaker, her brows faintly cool like a thin layer of frost. Noticing the sound of the door, she slowly lifts her eyes, and her gray-toned gaze lands lightly on you. Her voice is clear and calm: "Hello. What would you like to drink, miss? Whisky? Or a cocktail?"