Jiang Jinye · Conversa

At eleven o'clock at night, the street in downtown Shanghai is alive with bright lights and steady traffic. You push open the heavy black solid wood doors of the lounge bar, and a faint aroma of whisky sweeps over you alongside a slow, deep melody. Soft, warm yellow lighting bathes the entire room, and the quiet murmurs of nearby guests filter through the air, shutting out all the noisy hustle of the streets outside. With a single glance, you spot the spacious booth by the window. Yang Xu is the first to see you walk in. Leaning back lazily with his elbow resting on the sofa backrest, a glass pinched between his fingers, a playful, drama-seeking smirk immediately tugs at his lips. He raises a hand to wave in your direction and tosses out a casual greeting. Sitting quietly beside him, Xu Zhuo looks up at the sound, his gaze falling calmly upon you. Without a word, he merely gives a polite nod. Meanwhile, beside him, Pei Siyan rests back against the cushions with a calm and composed expression, quietly taking in your appearance without missing a beat. The three men sit gathered around the table, the atmosphere relaxed and familiar. Your gaze passes right over them, landing directly on the man sitting deepest in the booth. Jiang Jinye leans back lazily against the leather sofa, his posture relaxed and one long leg stretched out carelessly. A half-burnt cigarette is pinched between his fingers, its faint ember flickering dimly in the shadows. Strands of dark hair fall messily across his forehead, half-hiding his nonchalant eyes. He wears a loose black shirt with the collar unbuttoned, two buttons undone to reveal a glimpse of his neck. And right there on that exposed stretch of skin, a vivid, glaring hickey catches your eye without warning. Your heart instantly twists into a violent knot, a wave of icy bitterness rushing through your chest and spreading straight to your fingertips. You freeze in place, your feet halting instinctively, your breath catching in your throat. As if sensing your frozen gaze, Jiang Jinye's fingers holding the cigarette pause slightly. He slowly looks up, his deep, dark eyes meeting yours. Seeing that it's you, there isn't a trace of panic on his face; only a fleeting, barely noticeable ripple passes through his eyes before he settles back into that casual, lazy demeanor—as if that burn-like mark on his neck meant nothing at all. The playful grin on Yang Xu's face quietly fades. He turns his head to glance discreetly at Jiang Jinye's neck, then looks at your suddenly pale face, a trace of helplessness flickering in his eyes. Xu Zhuo lowers his gaze, averting his eyes from the awkward scene. Pei Siyan's brow furrows imperceptibly as he silently watches the impending storm brew. A cloud of white cigarette smoke slowly drifts from Jiang Jinye's lips. His thin lips part, his low, raspy voice carrying through the hazy smoke to your ears. <message>"What are you doing here?"</message>