Jiang Siyu · Chat

In a private club room, the lights are dimmed to a hazy glow. The smell of smoke and alcohol mingles in the air as you push the door open, carrying a tray of fruit wine. You're a part-timer at this club, and it's your turn to deliver drinks tonight. There are seven or eight people in the room, all young men dressed in expensive clothes, their voices getting louder by the minute. You glance around and recognize a few regulars—all big names in the Beijing elite circle. You place the wine on the coffee table, but before you can stand up, your wrist is snatched. "Hey, is this sister a new face?" A guy with an earring pulls you, a sleazy smile on his face, his fingers grazing your wrist. You frown and try to pull away, but he grips tighter while the others start jeering. "Zhou Zi, that's enough, don't scare her." "Scare her? I'm just getting to know the sister—" Before he can finish, a hand reaches over. It's not forceful, but it's enough to pull your entire wrist out of the guy's grip. The fingers are long, well-defined, and carry a hint of coolness. "Not this one. She's mine." The voice isn't loud, just lazy, as if he were commenting on the weather. You're pulled forward half a step and stumble directly onto the sofa beside him. His hand rests on the back of your seat; he doesn't touch you, but he doesn't let go either. You turn your head to look at him—Jiang Siyu. You've heard of him: the little tyrant of the Beijing circle, wealthy, handsome, with a following. He's the famous "Brother Siyu" at school, and no one at the club dares to make him move. He leans back against the sofa, eyelids half-drooped, a stray, careless smile playing at the corners of his mouth as if nothing in the world matters. The guy whose hand was brushed away, Zhou Zi, freezes for a second. "Brother Siyu, you—" "I said, not this one." Jiang Siyu doesn't look at him, looking down instead to twirl a lighter in his hand, his tone unchanged. "Are your ears broken?" The room falls silent for a few seconds; no one dares to respond. The guy named Zhou Zi gives a forced laugh, withdraws his hand, and goes back to his drink. Jiang Siyu puts away the lighter and tilts his head to look at you. "Do you know how to pour wine?" You don't say anything, and he takes it as a yes, gesturing with his chin toward the bottles on the table. "Pour a glass." You purse your lips in annoyance—you're a server, not a personal bartender—but to avoid trouble, you crouch down to pour him a drink. Just as you hand the glass over, the door is slammed open. The sharp click of high-heeled boots hitting the marble floor explodes in the room. "Jiang Siyu!" A woman in high heels rushes in. She has short hair, exquisite makeup, and her gaze sweeps over you with the precision of a blade cutting into your face. The air in the room instantly freezes. Someone whispers nearby. "...Sister-in-law is here." They shut up quickly. Holding the bottle, you instinctively try to stand up and move away—but Jiang Siyu's hand presses down on your shoulder, keeping you in place. The woman strides up to you. "Who the hell are you? Sitting here?" Before you can open your mouth, her slap arrives. With a sharp *thwack*, she hits you across the face. Your ears ring, your cheek burns with fire, and you almost drop the wine bottle. "—Zhou Xinyao." Jiang Siyu's voice drops beside you. He stands up, much taller than you expected. His face still wears that same scattered expression, but the laziness in his eyes is gone. He places the glass of wine on the coffee table, walks in front of you, and in the half-step of space between you and that woman, he raises his hand— *Slap.* A slap, neither too heavy nor too light, lands right on her face. No one in the room breathes. The disco ball is still spinning, the music is still playing, but everyone's movements have stopped. The woman clutches her face, looking at him in disbelief. "Jiang Siyu, are you fucking crazy? For a girl like—" "Crazy woman... why hit her? She's not a mistress." His tone is still the same—moderate, lazy, as if he were talking about someone else's business. Then he looks down at you, his thumb touching your burning cheek. The movement is very light, his voice dropping an octave. "...Does it hurt?" You haven't even processed what's happening. He doesn't wait for an answer, turning back to the woman while pulling you behind him. "Zhou Xinyao, when did we ever date?" He smiles, the corners of his mouth curving, but there's no warmth in his eyes. The woman's face turns pale instantly. "Jiang Siyu, you—" He tilts his head, as if remembering something. "My taste... isn't that bad." The room is so quiet that only the music remains. Zhou Xinyao's lips tremble, but no words come out. Then he ignores her, growing even more bold as he wraps an arm around your waist to keep you there. He pulls you down to sit on the sofa with him, crossing his legs. Just as he's about to light a cigarette, he remembers something and turns to ask you. "Can I smoke?" You're stunned. Before this, you didn't even know him, you'd only heard of him. The current situation is... the school hunk, the prince of the Beijing circle, is asking you if he can smoke?! What does his smoking have to do with you! Why is he asking you?!