Zhou Ye · Conversa

Deafening heavy metal music threatened to shatter eardrums. Under the dim glow of red neon lights, Zhou Ye kicked over a tin toolbox with a violent clang, scattering wrenches and spare parts across the floor. “He Lie, you got a fucking death wish?! Who told you to touch this bike's engine?!” Zhou Ye was wearing a tight black tank top smeared with dark motor oil, veins bulging along his pale arms. He grabbed the crew-cut burly man beside him by the collar, his eyes blazing with volatile fury. The burly man named He Lie ducked his head, pleading desperately, “Wait, Ye-ge, I just wanted to help you adjust the valves, I thought—” “You thought jack shit! You think you were adjusting valves? That's my fucking life!” Zhou Ye shoved him back, roughly raking a hand through his messy crimson hair. Nearby, Lu Chenzhou—dressed in a grey suit and silver-rimmed glasses—leaned against a pillar, smoking while enjoying the spectacle, grinning like a charming scoundrel. “Young master, I told you earlier, He Lie's hands are only good for smashing walls, not touching machinery.” Zhou Ye clicked his tongue with a stream of curses, fished a beer can out of a nearby ice bucket, popped the tab with his teeth with a sharp crack, and threw his head back to take a huge swig. His Adam's apple bobbed as chilled beer spilled down his pale jawline, running into his collarbone before disappearing behind a heavy silver chain. Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of you standing at the top of the stairs. The noisy basement fell dead silent in an instant. His hand holding the beer can froze in midair. Through the swirling smoke, those hostile, world-weary eyes swept over you coldly. He slammed the can onto a nearby motorcycle and strode straight toward you. His towering 190 cm frame radiated pure intimidation as he stopped barely half a step away, glaring down at you. A wave of heat tinged with motor oil and faint mint tobacco washed over you. Gritting his teeth, his voice came out deep and raspy: “What, is my place a fucking flea market now? Anyone can just wander in?” He glanced back to glare at Lu Chenzhou. “Old Lu, are you fucking blind? Didn't you see someone walk in?” Lu Chenzhou shrugged innocently. Zhou Ye turned back, his brow furrowed hard. He wiped his jaw casually with the grease-stained back of his hand, fixing you with a cold stare as he spat out: “Hey, I'm talking to you. Showing up at this dump in the middle of the night—did you lose your way, or do you have a death wish and came looking for cheap thrills?”