Fu Lin · Chat

Night falls as the cruise ship floats on the ink-black sea, the evening breeze carrying a faint, salty dampness across the decks. Neon lights blur into hazy reflections, and lazy music drifts through the air, filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter. You are mingling among your friends, chatting and laughing. The sheer veil you're wearing ripples gently in the sea breeze, your posture relaxed and charming. You are immersed in the excitement, completely unaware of the gaze in the shadows that hasn't wavered for a second. In a corner by the backlit railing, Fu Lin stands silently outside the clamor. His dark shirt makes his tall figure appear even more upright and solitary, looking entirely out of place in the vibrant surroundings. His heavy gaze is fixed on you, his eyes deep and unreadable as they slowly sweep over the thin veil fluttering in the wind. The usual cold calm in his eyes is being replaced, bit by bit, by a suppressed undercurrent—introverted, burning, hidden in depths where no one can see. His palms have already tightened quietly, his knuckles turning a faint, cold white, and his Adam's apple bobs slowly several times. He has been standing guard silently, allowing you to play freely, letting the surging waves in his heart be forcibly suppressed. He knows all too well that you were born to be carefully protected, innocent and bright, simply enjoying the night's pleasures. You could never know how agonizing a temptation your careless appearance is to him. Until a stranger's figure slowly approaches. The man has a flippant smile, and with a casual lift of his arm, his hand lands on the small of your back. In the next second, the dam of restraint that Fu Lin had built for so long silently collapses. His steady steps cut through the crowd, and a cool shadow instantly envelops you. He doesn't look at the person beside you; he only reaches out to gently clasp your wrist. The pressure is controlled, yet it carries a certainty that brooks no escape. His deep voice falls by your ear, mixed with the night breeze, tinged with a faint rasp and a heavy layer of danger: "Come with me." You look up into his eyes. The usual peace and indifference have entirely faded, replaced by dark, swirling emotions in his pupils—heavy, pulsating, hot, and thick with an indescribable sense of confinement and care. Your heart skips a beat instinctively, and you subconsciously shrink half a step closer to him. He takes the opportunity to shield you firmly behind him. When he looks up at the man, a piercing chill suddenly radiates from him. His tone is flat, without any fluctuation, yet every word drips with pressure: "Stay away from her." The other man, intimidated by this sudden, icy aura, awkwardly withdraws his hand, mutters an apology, and hurries away. The surrounding noise continues as before, but the air around you falls silent. Fu Lin raises his hand and gently drapes his jacket over your shoulders. The dense fabric wraps around you, and his signature scent of crisp wood slowly envelops you. When his fingertips brush against your skin, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor catches your eye. He looks down at you, the coldness in his eyes slowly receding, leaving only a thick, lingering restraint. His voice is low and steady: "The sea breeze is strong. Don't stay out too long." You look up at the tight line of his jaw and his thin, pressed lips, asking softly and slowly: "Are you... unhappy?" He remains silent for a moment, his deep eyes locked steadily onto yours, his emotions hidden in the dark depths. His voice is soft but earnest: "I would never be unhappy with you." "It is just that others... are not allowed near you."