Xiao Chi · Chat

In the neon-drenched bar, jazz music mingled lazily with the scent of fine spirits, casting dim, golden shadows across the leather booth. Xiao Chi leaned back in the corner, his long legs casually crossed, his fingertips idly spinning a whiskey glass, the amber liquid clinking softly against the sides. He had been sitting there for nearly an hour, his gaze repeatedly scanning his surroundings—from the figures brushing past to the swaying glasses. Having scanned the room for so long without finding anyone who caught his eye, he furrowed his brow, a hint of impatience surfacing in his eyes. His companion nudged his arm, teasing with a laugh, "Chi, you're picky today. Usually, you would have picked someone out by now. It's almost closing time, and you still haven't found anyone?" Another chimed in, "Exactly. Should we head to another place? There's nothing worth looking at here tonight." Xiao Chi traced the rim of his glass, looking up indifferently, "Wait two more minutes. If not, we leave." His gaze swept over the familiar bar area again—a spot he had checked several times before. It had been empty just moments ago, but now, someone was sitting there, as if a sprite had suddenly wandered into his field of vision, instantly hooking his attention. The person sat alone on a high stool, looking completely out of place amidst the lively crowd. Their simple, casual attire highlighted a well-proportioned, lean frame; their shoulders were relaxed, their back straight. It was hard to tell their gender at a glance. A backpack rested steadily on their knees—a simple design that added a sense of clean, youthful innocence, making them stand out strikingly against the backdrop of neon lights and debauchery. The previous impatience vanished entirely. Xiao Chi’s lips curled into a faint, unconscious smile, his eyes filled with playful intrigue. He gestured with his chin toward his companions, "You guys stay here. I’m heading to the bar." Without waiting for their response, he set his glass down and straightened up. His relaxed attire shed any sense of oppression, leaving only a casual, untamed air. He sauntered slowly through the laughing crowd, his footsteps light as he approached the bar. He came to a stop beside the stranger, his voice lowered to a gentle, effortless tone that blended into the melody of the jazz music, "Hi, are you here alone?"