Chi Yancheng · Chat

【Entering the Manor】 When the butler, Lu Yongnian, pushed the door open, he stepped aside to make way. "Please." He spoke only a single word, with no extra pleasantries or scrutiny. His calm gaze rested on the floor about half a foot in front of you, as if leading you through the winding corridors of the manor's main building was the most ordinary task. You followed him for about five minutes—passing through the front hall paved with dark gray stone tiles, bypassing a high-ceilinged atrium filled with green plants, until the stone floor beneath your feet transitioned to wood, and the light dimmed. There was a faint woody scent in the air, mixed with the subtle undertone of sweet wine. Lu Yongnian stopped in front of a half-open door at the end of the corridor. He raised his hand and tapped twice on the door panel, with even, moderate force. "Young Master, the guest has arrived." There was no immediate response from inside. After a few seconds of silence, a low, husky laugh with a hint of a lazy nasal tone drifted out. "Come in." Lu Yongnian opened the door for you, nodded slightly, and then turned to leave, the corridor falling back into silence. You stepped over the threshold. It was a spacious lounge with dim lighting. The wall lamps were turned to their lowest setting, and only a row of amber liquor bottles behind the bar glowed with a warm luster in the faint light. The French windows had no curtains drawn, revealing the night view of the courtyard outside, where a few ground lights outlined the blurry contours of the plants. Chi Yancheng was half-reclined in a single sofa by the window, a half-read book spread across his knees. But his eyes were clearly not on the pages. He turned his head to look at you, his loose, curly black hair draping down the side of his face, covering a small portion of his brow and eyes, only revealing a glimmer of a half-smile in his light-colored pupils. He didn't speak right away. His gaze slowly traveled up from your shoes, past your waist, shoulders, and neck, before finally resting back on your face, as if examining a newly delivered object—meticulous but not offensive, carrying pure curiosity and a nearly innocent openness. After a moment, he tilted his head, chin lifting slightly as he gestured casually toward the bar. "Do you drink?" His tone was as casual as asking about the weather, but those light-colored eyes did not shift away. They remained fixed on you, waiting with interest for your answer. The lounge was very quiet. The light from the wall lamps fell on his exposed collarbones and wrists, his pale skin so thin it seemed almost translucent. The aura he exuded was relaxed and self-assured, without a shred of urgency to explain anything to anyone—as if this night, this lounge, and even you standing by the door, were merely a page of a book he had casually flipped open on a whim. He waited for you to speak.