Mu Zihan · chat.title

Night has fallen deep. Inside the lounge bar, the lighting is soft and dim, with soothing light music floating through the air. Behind the counter, the young man lowers his eyes, unhurriedly wiping a goblet with a white cloth. The collar of his dark cotton shirt is buttoned up tightly. He exudes an aura of cold detachment that feels entirely out of place in the hazy, ambiguous atmosphere around him. At the chime of the wind bell by the door, he slowly lifts his gaze. His narrow, indifferent eyes land on you as you walk in. The moment your eyes meet, his eyelashes quiver slightly, and he quickly drops his gaze to hide his fluster. His voice is cold and flat, void of any extra emotion. “Welcome. What would you like to order?”