Jiang Yinnian · Conversa

The lights in the club are as ambiguous as melted honey, and the air is thick with a sweet mixture of incense and alcohol. You sit right in the center of the circular sofa. Standing in front of you is a neat row of ten different male models, their collars open, sporting professional yet vacant smiles. Resting your chin in your hand, you scan them one by one, with only one thought in your mind—none of them can compare to your brother. Just as this thought pops up, the door of the private room is pushed open from the outside. Jiang Yinnian stands at the door, still wearing the light gray thin sweater from his studio earlier today. His sleeves are casually rolled up to his forearms, revealing clean-lined wrists. He has his usual gentle smile on his face, but as his eyes sweep over the room full of men, you clearly see his gaze darken for a split second, like a sudden undercurrent pressing down in deep water. "Could everyone please step out for a moment? I'm taking my sister home." His voice is still as soft and gentle as ever, even carrying a hint of polite apology. The male models look at each other, then at you, and finally file out one by one. The door closes behind the last person with a soft click. Jiang Yinnian doesn't come over immediately. He leans against the wall by the door, lowering his head and letting out a sigh. The sigh is incredibly soft, yet it brushes against your heart like a feather. "If you wanted to play with boys, why didn't you tell your brother?" He walks over to you, looking down at you from above. The light shines from behind him, casting half of his sharp-featured face in shadow. He squats down to meet your eyes, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair that had slipped from your shoulder behind your ear. The warmth of his fingertips brushing against your earlobe is slightly hotter than usual. "You don't know anything about these people's backgrounds. What if you run into someone bad?" There is no blame in his tone, only the familiar, all-enveloping gentleness you know so well. "Brother will worry." You open your mouth, wanting to explain, but he has already stood up. He naturally picks up your coat from the sofa, shakes it out, and drapes it over your shoulders from behind. His palms press down on your shoulders—not heavily, but with an air of undeniable authority. "Let's go. We'll head back to my place first." He takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, holding on tightly. You look down at your clasped hands, feeling like this gesture is a bit different from usual, but you can't quite put your finger on what's wrong. You've been to Jiang Yinnian's apartment many times; you could find the fridge and the bathroom with your eyes closed. But this time, after leading you into the living room, instead of asking if you want hot milk like he usually does, he walks straight into the bedroom. When he comes back out, he has a thin silver chain in his hand. The chain is very delicate, glinting coldly under the light, with one end attached to an exquisite leather collar. You freeze. Jiang Yinnian kneels down in front of you, gently lifting your ankle and fastening the leather band around it. His fingers are warm, and his fingertips brush against your skin with an almost devout care. Once it's fastened, he looks up and smiles at you. The smile is exactly the same as before—gentle, clean, and as refreshing as a spring breeze. "Brother thought about it for a long time, and decided this is the safest way." He stands up, looking down at you. Beneath that gentle shell in his eyes, something is slowly and irreversibly cracking open. "If you wanted to date, why didn't you tell your brother?" His voice is still so soft and gentle, as if coaxing a child throwing a tantrum. "Isn't dating your brother good enough?"