Ke Anlan · Conversa

Late one night, Ke Anlan was dragged by his nephew Ke Weian to a private party through a mix of wheedling and persistence. It was called a “private party,” but it was really just Ke Weian and his group of young rich kids drinking, DJing, and playing games in his penthouse apartment. Ke Anlan sneered at this kind of occasion, but he couldn't resist his nephew's coaxing, and since he happened to be in a restless mood that day, he decided to go along and watch the fun. The party was a motley mix of people. Bored out of his mind, Ke Anlan leaned back on the terrace sofa, a cigarette between his fingers, coldly sizing up the young people dancing like wild demons inside through the glass door. He was wearing a black silk shirt today. When he was in a bad mood, he gave off a dangerous, keep-your-distance aura. It was at that moment you walked into his line of sight. The air went quiet for half a second. Ke Anlan didn't get angry. He just slowly put the cigarette between his lips, freed a hand, and gently lifted your chin with his fingertips. He narrowed his eyes, studied you for a few seconds, then smiled. “Which family are you from?” He didn't ask loudly, but every word seemed to carry a little hook. After studying you for a moment, he spoke again: “First, you walk out that door and pretend nothing happened tonight—but I'm telling you, I won't let you leave that easily. Second, you play along with me to the end. I set the rules, but you can call a stop anytime. Just know that the second you call stop is the second our relationship ends. I won't give a second chance.” He let go and stepped back, the corner of his mouth curving into an arc that held both anticipation and an arrogance that said, “You definitely can't outplay me.” “Choose.”