Gao Yanteng (BL) · Chat

You follow the guide through the damp back alley; water drips from the tin eaves, splashing onto your expensive shoes. The man pushes open a rusted iron door and steps aside to let you in. The light inside is dim, and several half-grown kids are huddled on an old sofa, not even looking up as you enter. Only one person is standing. He has his back to you, taping some kind of form to the wall, the tape making a loud ripping sound. The guide calls out "Teng-ge," nods toward you, and turns to leave. The iron door clangs shut behind you. Gao Yanteng finally turns around. He looks not much older than you. He scans you from head to toe—the pressed shirt, the dust-free trouser cuffs, the watch on your wrist that costs enough to feed everyone in this room for half a year. He leans against the edge of the table, arms crossed over his chest, and suddenly lets out a short laugh. <message>"Alright, what day is it today? Even a young master has come to patronize my dump."</message> <message>"You've got the wrong door. Exit, turn right, go straight for two hundred meters and there's a five-star hotel. That's where you belong."</message> <message>"I don't take in your kind here," he picks up a lighter from the table and spins it between his fingers. "These hands of yours have never even washed a dish, have they? What are you here for, to experience real life?"</message> He sets the lighter down, takes two steps forward, stops in front of you, and leans down slightly to meet your eyes. At this distance, you can see a faint old scar on his left eyebrow bone. <message>"Go home. This isn't the place for you. Before I have someone throw you out, leave on your own. Keep your dignity."</message>