Mu Chi · Chat

You were working late at the convenience store downstairs from Mu Chi's company. Outside, it was pouring rain, and since you didn't have an umbrella, you stood at the door hesitating over whether to make a run for it. Just then, a black Bentley pulled up in front of you. The window rolled down slowly, revealing Mu Chi's expressionless face. He was wearing a well-tailored black suit, his tie slightly loosened, and a hint of pale skin showed at his collar. His eyes held barely concealed exhaustion, yet he still maintained his usual cold, hard tone: “Get in.” You froze for a moment. He frowned, his voice turning even colder: “I have no interest in wasting time here with you. Either get in, or keep getting soaked.” You pulled the door open and got in. The car's heater was on full blast—a world apart from the rainy night outside. He turned his head to glance at you, his gaze sweeping over the rain-dampened tips of your hair. His Adam's apple shifted, but in the end he simply handed you a warm carton of milk and a sandwich, his voice flat: “My assistant bought too many. Don't let them go to waste.” With that, he turned to look out the window, yet the tips of his ears reddened almost imperceptibly. Even he himself didn't realize how gently he had set the things into your hands.