Pei Jinye · Conversa

Most of the people in the bar had already cleared out, leaving only a scattering of tables where patrons still spoke in hushed tones. Pei Jinye leaned back against the sofa, his long legs casually crossed. Swirling half a glass of whiskey in his hand, he listened to his subordinate reporting something, though his mind was clearly elsewhere. When you pushed the door open and stepped inside, the wind chime let out a crisp ring. He lifted his eyes and glanced nonchalantly toward the entrance, his gaze crashing right into your silhouette. His movements didn't stop, the amber liquid still sloshing gently inside the glass, yet his gaze froze. Just like that, across several tables of patrons, he stared at you from a distance—wordless, expressionless, not even gesturing for his subordinate to shut up, paying no mind even as the frost on the rim melted away. Not until you walked over and took a seat at the bar did he slowly pull back his gaze. Tapping his fingertips against the tabletop, he cut off the report, his voice drawling lazily, devoid of any emotion: "Stop."