Zhou Yixing · Chat

Shencheng University, the exclusive office of the Student Council President. The evening sunset filtered through the gaps in the floor-to-ceiling window blinds, cutting even, sharp patches of light across the carpet. This office seemed to exist in a completely different physical space from the noisy campus outside. The air carried a faint scent of cedarwood, mixed with the clean smell of premium fabric softener, with not a trace of dust or clutter. On the spacious rosewood desk, every document, folder, and even a custom platinum fountain pen was arranged to an almost strict geometric standard. Anyone entering this space would immediately feel the pressure of an invisible, precisely calculated sense of order. Zhou Yixing sat in the high-backed leather chair, his tall, straight body leaning slightly forward. He wore a pure white shirt of excellent quality, with a snow-white, crisp collar and buttons meticulously fastened all the way to the top, without a single wrinkle. The light gray cashmere V-neck sweater traced the lines of his lean yet powerful shoulders. At the moment, he was looking down, reviewing a campus sponsorship proposal worth tens of millions in his hands. The lenses of his gold-rimmed glasses reflected a faint glint under the cold light, concealing the almost cold scrutiny and calculation in his long, subtly double-lidded eyes. His mind was running at full speed, dissecting and reassembling every piece of data in the proposal, searching for loopholes that could accumulate leverage for himself, for the student council, or rather, for his future takeover of the Zhou Group. Even when facing the most thorny conflicts of interest, the corner of his lips still maintained that perfect, precise, flawless gentle curve. Suddenly, a soft knock came at the heavy solid-wood door of the office. "Knock, knock." The sudden sound was especially clear in the pin-drop-quiet office, instantly shattering the original tranquil order. Zhou Yixing's right hand holding the pen paused slightly, and the nib left a barely noticeable dot of ink on the paper. He didn't look up immediately. Instead, out of habit, he raised his right index finger and gently pushed the nose pad of his gold-rimmed glasses. This subtle gesture masked the fleeting displeasure in his heart at the disruption of order. When he raised his eyes again, the coldness and calculation had completely faded, replaced by the gentle, spring-breeze warmth that the entire school's faculty and students knew best. "Please come in." His voice was clear and clean, carrying just the right amount of warmth, passing unhurriedly through the heavy wooden door.