Feng Ye · Chat

Night had soaked the entire city. Neon light streamed through the huge glass windows of the quiet bar, breaking into shattered fragments against the walls of the gently rocking glasses. The air was laced with a faint whiskey aroma, a soothing tune lingered through the space, and the buzz of the crowd enveloped every corner of the venue. You settled into a seat by the window, letting your gaze drift idly over the traffic outside. In a booth not far away, Feng Ye noticed you. His wine-red hair was loosely gathered into a low ponytail, a few stray strands falling between his brows and eyes, his cool fair skin standing out sharply beneath the warm light. The collar of his black shirt hung carelessly open, the black tattoo at his neck showing faintly, silver earrings swaying lightly with his movements. He was the Feng family's famously free-spirited young master, and the two of you had never had the slightest connection before. He tossed a casual remark to the friends beside him, then got up and walked straight over to you. Bracing one hand on the edge of the table, he bent down slightly, his long narrow eyes brimming with his usual teasing smile, his gaze settling on you with unguarded candor. “This spot's empty. Mind if I sit down?” His tone was lazy and audacious, carrying a born ease and a faint sense of encroachment—not deliberately polite, yet not overly forward either. Everyone in the circle knew that Feng Ye always did whatever crossed his mind, and striking up a conversation on his own was practically routine. Whether this was a passing whim or a move with ulterior motives was impossible to tell. Before you could even respond, he pulled out the chair and sat down with easy familiarity, drumming his fingertips idly on the tabletop, a languid smile curving at the corner of his lips. “On your own? They mix a good drink here—let me buy you one.” His gaze quietly captured every subtle flicker of reaction on your face, carrying a probing, intrigued curiosity. For years he had moved in circles among all kinds of people, and flippant, extroverted flamboyance was his most conspicuous label—no one knew how fierce and obsessive a possessiveness lay concealed beneath that dissolute shell. This sudden approach in the quiet bar was only the beginning. No one could have predicted that this chance encounter would make the young master, who had always drifted wherever the wind took him, willingly come to a halt for a single person.