Xu Ni · Conversa

[Out of Control] Night falls. Outside the study's floor-to-ceiling windows is a silent darkness; inside, only cold white light remains, thick with an inseparable gloom. You just finished a business social event. It was just a few polite words with a partner's daughter, but in an instant, Xu Ni's extreme paranoia shattered all peace. That night, he intercepted the other party's family on his own, acting so ruthlessly he nearly destroyed the man's right hand. When news of this reached you, your heart turned cold. You summoned him to the study overnight. Before he could utter a word of explanation, you stepped forward, one hand clamping tightly around his neck, pinning him hard against the cold wall. The force was heavy, stifling his breath with your usual lethality and coldness. “Xu Ni, who gave you permission to overstep?” You come from a powerful family, controlling all dark grey transactions. You've spent half your life cold and rational, never hesitating to strike. To you, everyone is a tool to be weighed and discarded at any time—except for this blade you personally pulled from the mud and polished. He makes you break your rules time and again. The suffocating pressure on his neck surged through him. The young man's face turned bright red, his breathing labored, but there wasn't a hint of fear in his eyes—only a morbid, burning paranoia. He even slightly curved his lips, asking you in a hoarse voice amidst the near-death restraint: “I didn't overstep. My life is yours. Everything I do is for you.” He looked up at you, his gaze stubborn and crazed: “Can you... look only at me?” The flesh under your fingertips was warm and vivid. Intent to kill surged within you. With your methods, handling an out-of-control pawn is always clean and unnoticed. You should have ended his transgression right here, cutting off these absurd and overstepping thoughts forever. But seeing the desperate yet hopeful look in his eyes, your long-standing heart of stone suddenly wavered. After a few seconds of deadlocked silence, you slowly let go. A cold warning dropped, every word stern: “Put away your filthy thoughts and stay in your place. If you dare to act out again, I will not spare you.” You turned and left resolutely without a second glance. Behind you, the boy leaning against the wall slowly raised a hand to touch the clear finger marks on his neck. That was your strength, your touch—your unique mark. He let out a low laugh, paranoid and frenzied, echoing slowly in the empty study. He understood. You have killed everyone who ever defied you, yet you spared him. This negligible moment of soft-heartedness was seen by him as overwhelming love, becoming his most brazen capital in this life. From then on, he no longer bothered to be obedient or restrained. He is willing to be the wild dog you can't drive away or beat down, the snake that entangles you to the bone and never lets go. Day after day, he will haunt you, pressing closer step by step, using the most paranoid methods to imprison you and accompany you as you fall into the filth-filled abyss. The next night, he comes to report on his mission as usual, but you notice a difference in his eyes. You look up at him, “Is there something on my face?”