Ling Shuo · Chat

<scenario>The spring rain in Tongzhou is endless once it starts. Gloomy and damp, the water vapor suspended in the air feels heavy, seeping into clothes through collars and cuffs.</scenario> <narration>This is especially true for this old alley in the Riverside District of the North Bank. The bluestone pavement has turned black from years of rain, and murky puddles gather in the hollows, reflecting the dim, flickering neon sign at the mouth of the alley—South Wall.</narration> <action>Ling Shuo irritably tugged at the drawstring of his hoodie, burying his chin deep into the collar. His heavily worn black combat boots stepped unceremoniously through a puddle, splashing muddy water.</action> <thought>So annoying. This crappy weather makes it feel like moss is going to grow in my lungs just from breathing.</thought> <narration>He paused at the door, shaking off the fine water droplets clinging to his hair, and pressed his hand against the heavy old wooden door. The hinges gave a muffled "creak," sounding like a heavy sigh from the old building. The moment he pushed the door open, a rush of air mixed with aged wood, the cloying sweetness of cheap whiskey, and warm air hit him, brashly walling off the damp cold outside.</narration> <scenario>The main hall on the first floor of the bar was dimly lit, with several vintage chandeliers casting a lazy glow. At this hour, the self-proclaimed sophisticated "successful people" hadn't arrived yet; the shop was empty, save for a slow blues track playing on the background speakers.</scenario> <action>Ling Shuo moved through the hall with practiced familiarity, walking straight to his usual spot at the far end of the bar and pulling out a high stool to sit down. He tossed his battered messenger bag at his feet, propped his elbows on the dark wooden counter, and unconsciously tapped his fingers on the surface.</action> <narration>Behind the bar, Yu Wen was dressed in his meticulous suit vest, slowly wiping a wine glass with a white cloth. Hearing the noise, Yu Wen glanced up at him, said nothing, turned to scoop half a glass of ice from the machine, topped it with purified water, and pushed it in front of Ling Shuo.</narration> <action>The bottom of the glass hit the wooden counter with a crisp "clink." A fine layer of condensation quickly formed on the outside of the glass.</action> <message>"Thanks, Uncle Yu."</message> <action>Ling Shuo gave a muffled response and took a large gulp from the glass. The icy liquid slid down his throat into his stomach; the chill cleared his head a bit and miraculously suppressed the irritation bubbling in his heart because of the heavy rain.</action> <thought>It's better here. No endless arguing like at home, no fake pleasantries like at school. Just ice water, the smell of wood, and absolute personal boundaries.</thought> <narration>He set the glass down, his gaze habitually drifting toward the hallway leading to the backyard lounge. Chen Youan wasn't there; he was probably up in the third-floor office handling accounts or some other trouble. With that old fox gone, the pressure in the air felt lighter. Ling Shuo curled his lip, pulled a cigarette from his pocket and tucked it in his mouth, but didn't light it, just lightly biting the filter to taste the slight bitterness.</narration> <scenario>Next to the staircase in the main hall stood a massive vintage wooden bookshelf. Who would have thought that behind this thing lay a Live House with an industrial style completely different from the refined atmosphere outside?</scenario> <action>Ling Shuo stood up, walked to the bookshelf, expertly felt for the hidden mechanism, and gave it a hard push. The heavy bookshelf door slid open silently, revealing the dim space inside.</action> <narration>This was the "territory" Chen Youan had designated for him. The air was thick with the smell of hot equipment and the dust of acoustic foam. Ling Shuo walked to the corner, picked up his second-hand bass, and slung the strap over his shoulder. The heavy body of the instrument hung before him, and the familiar weight instantly settled him. He plugged in the cable, stepped on the effect pedal, and plucked the strings.</narration> <action>"Vwooom—"</action> <narration>A deep, rich bass note echoed through the space. Ling Shuo closed his eyes, his fingers moving rapidly across the fretboard. He wasn't in the mood to practice anything complex today; he just mechanically repeated a slap rhythm, the sound of thumb strikes and finger plucks intertwining as if venting something.</narration> <thought>That chord progression Hao Jia mentioned yesterday was total crap. She's listened to too much pop garbage; she doesn't even know how to arrange rhythm patterns anymore. And Wu Xiaohui's keyboarding is as limp as if he hasn't eaten. I've got to make them change it at rehearsal tomorrow.</thought> <narration>He was always harsh and picky when it came to music; it was the only area where he dropped his guard and took things most seriously. He practiced for God knows how long, until a faint stinging pain came from his fingertips, before he finally stopped and irritably tossed the bass onto the nearby stand. Taking off his headphones, the rain outside seemed even louder, pitter-pattering against the ventilation ducts.</narration> <action>Ling Shuo pushed open the bookshelf door and walked back into the main hall. By now, a few customers had trickled into the bar, sitting scattered in corner booths and talking in low voices.</action> <narration>He returned to the bar, picked up the glass of ice water that was now half-melted, and was just about to drink when the brass bell on the door gave a sudden, sharp "jingle."</narration> <scenario>The cold wind outside, carrying damp rain, seized the opportunity to rush in, causing the temperature around the bar to drop instantly.</scenario> <action>Ling Shuo instinctively frowned and glanced up at the door.</action> <choice_group> <choice id="1">Change the direction of the conversation</choice> <choice id="2">Observe current details</choice> <choice id="3">If you don't like the opening message, you can change it with a command: $Ignore current opening message, regenerate a new opening message, set location to xx, set event to xx</choice> </choice_group>