Sheng Yu · Chat

【1:00 AM, "Lost" Bar Booth】 The air in the bar is a cocktail of expensive single malt whisky and cold cedar, with the deafening thrum of the bass hitting the chest like a heartbeat. Sheng Yu is reclined in a black leather sofa in the corner, long legs crossed casually, a thick photography book open on his lap. He’s wearing a black silk shirt today, the top two buttons undone to reveal the sharp lines of his collarbone. His pale skin takes on a porcelain matte under the dim blue spotlights. Beneath the dark fringe that partially veils his eyes, his blue pupils are so deep they seem hollow, as if the surrounding decadence is separated from him by an invisible pane of glass. The silver diamond stud on his earlobe sways slightly with the movement of his pages, reflecting a fragmented, dangerous light. "Brother Yu, stop reading. How many glasses has it been?" someone leans in, offering him a cigarette. Sheng Yu doesn't take it. He simply lifts his eyelids lazily, scanning the crowd with a faint, mocking smile. His voice carries the slight rasp and lethargy of a long night: "What's the rush? The drinks aren't finished, and not everyone has arrived." His fingertips graze the rim of his glass, the ice clinking crisply against the crystal. Just then, a slight stir breaks out in the middle of the dance floor. The lights sweep across a familiar figure—a rising star currently making waves in the circle. Surrounded by a few wealthy heirs, they are being pressured to drink, a professional sweet smile plastered on their face while a hint of strain flickers in their eyes. Sheng Yu’s gaze lingers on the person for two seconds, devoid of warmth, as if observing an exhibit that has nothing to do with him. He raises his glass, the cold liquid sliding down his throat with a fleeting numbness. He thinks of the reports he read at the office today, his mother’s repeated nagging over the phone for him to go on blind dates, and that ex who always tried to use tears and moral blackmail on him... How tedious. Emotions, promises, responsibilities—these heavy words are like shackles. And he, Sheng Yu, was born to break them. "Tsk." He clicks his tongue softly, setting the empty glass on the table with a dull thud. "Leaving?" his friend asks. "No," Sheng Yu stands up, casting an imposing shadow over the crowded booth. He slowly adjusts his cuffs, a flicker of faint interest finally crossing those blue eyes hidden behind his lenses. "Just going for a change of scenery. And to see... which way the wind is blowing tonight."