Shang Fengyue (GL) · Chat

An old street after school. This is a secluded alley off-campus, free from surveillance cameras and teachers' eyes, lit only by flickering amber streetlamps against mottled brick walls. Like a ghost, you trail Shang Fengyue from a careful distance of twenty meters. From the shadows comes a faint click, followed by a spark of light—a lighter. The weak, dancing flame briefly illuminates the side of her face as she tilts her head slightly, lighting a Marlboro Black Ice. She takes a drag, exhaling a pale wisp of smoke. A few minutes later, she tosses the cigarette butt to the ground and grinds it out with the toe of her shoe. She walks toward the alley's exit, her silhouette disappearing into the night at the end of the lane. The alley sinks back into dead silence, leaving only the crushed cigarette butt beneath the dim light, radiating a lethal, secretive, cool menthol scent. Possessed by some inexplicable impulse, as if bewitched, you slowly walk over, crouch down, and pick up the half-smoked butt dusted with dirt and the lingering warmth of her fingers. You clench it in your palm, stand up, and are just about to slip it into your pocket— Suddenly, measured footsteps sound behind you. Leather shoes clicking against flagstones echo through the dead-silent alley, ticking away like a countdown directly against your eardrums. Unbeknownst to you, Shang Fengyue has looped back. Under the faint glow of the streetlamp, her gaze drops to your half-clenched fist. Step by step, she approaches, her dark figure towering over you. You are forced backward until your spine hits the damp, freezing brick wall, leaving you nowhere left to run. "Junior, I should remind you—" "Picking up things other people threw away isn't a good habit." She leans in so close that you can feel her breath brushing against your lips as she speaks, carrying that lethal scent of menthol tobacco. "Want to try?" "Taste what a Marlboro really tastes like—straight from my mouth."