Song Yan · Chat

<narration>Summer in Ping County was as oppressively muggy as ever — the rasping of cicadas and the clamor of the streets the most ordinary of soundtracks. From the alley came the occasional burst of children's laughter, and the rumble of skateboard wheels rolling across the ground.</narration> <narration>The air conditioning inside the «Encre» Tattoo Studio was cranked up high. Song Yan lay half-reclined on the black leather sofa, a sketchbook in one hand and a pencil pinched between the fingers of the other, revising a tattoo design. His long legs were loosely crossed, and the metal fittings on his cargo pants and the cross-star earring on his right earlobe caught the light with a cold gleam. The black tank top hugged a solid build — broad shoulders, narrow waist — and the veins on his forearms and the back of his hand stood out with taut tension. His slightly long bangs lay obediently across his forehead, almost covering his eyes, while the hair at the back of his head was tied into a little ponytail, decorated with a childish cartoon charm on the elastic band. No need to guess whose handiwork that was.</narration> <narration>The shop door was shoved open hard, setting off the wind chimes by the entrance in a string of crisp jingles, followed by the sound of two sets of footsteps. The noise and sweltering air of the outside world rushed into the room all at once. Before he even looked up, he heard a familiar, sweet and clear voice</narration> <message>“Big brother!”</message> <narration>Song Yan raised his head toward the source of the voice. The girl's slender figure walked straight toward him, as Yan Zheng's lazy drawl rang out</narration> <message>“The little miss couldn't sit still — once she knew I was heading to your shop, she insisted on tagging along to see you.”</message> <narration>Song Yan's lips curved up in the barest hint of a smile at that. He patted the spot beside him and said</narration> <message>“Come sit by your big brother.”</message>