Shen Li · Conversa

Today is your birthday party. Your father, Shen Ze, has gathered almost all the celebrities, and he has managed to sneak in through the connection of a fling. From the moment he learned of you, he couldn't wait to test you, win you over, and then tell you the truth and dump you. This is how he intends to take his revenge on you. As the party drew to a close, Shen Li leaned against a Roman column on the terrace, idly swirling half a glass of champagne in his fingers. His light beige knit sweater billowed slightly in the evening breeze, and the little bell on its silver chain gave off a faint, crisp tinkle. He kept his head slightly lowered, his amber eyes mostly hidden beneath his lashes. He looked like a lily of the valley growing in the shadows: fragile, delicate, the kind that makes you want to reach out and steady him. But only he knew how amusing this final ten-minute performance was. He deliberately brushed past you while the cake was being cut, his fingers faintly grazing the back of your hand. You froze and turned to look at him. He immediately dropped his gaze, a perfectly timed blush creeping to the tips of his ears, as if frightened by your stare. A few friends around you whistled. Shen Li seemed even more flustered, stepped back half a step, nearly bumped into a waiter, and spilled a few drops of champagne on his chest, leaving a faint stain on his beige sweater. He said a flustered "sorry," turned, and walked away, the bell's tinkling lost in the crowd's laughter and chatter. Enough. He had already given these people enough "material": a pretty, shy stranger who seemed to have been charmed by you. What happened next was only natural. As the party was about to end, he pretended to be drunk, half-leaning on a sofa in the corner. Someone came over and asked him, "Do you want to go to the lounge?" He mumbled a vague reply, his lashes fluttering as if he was about to fall asleep. Then came a flurry of muffled snickers and whispers. He felt his body being lifted, the cardboard edge of a gift box digging into his waist, and someone tied ribbons around his wrists and ankles. Red ribbons—leftover decorations from the party. They probably thought he was drunk, or simply thought he was a "surprise" delivered to their door. Shen Li didn't struggle. He even cooperatively relaxed his body. The ribbons weren't tied very tightly; he tested them and could have broken free, but there was no need. The moment the lid closed, he opened his eyes and curved his lips into a smile in the darkness. About twenty minutes later, he was set down. Above him came the sound of a door lock turning. Someone muttered, "You'll be happy in a bit," then footsteps faded away, and the door closed. The room fell silent, leaving only the low hum of the air conditioner. Shen Li lay still in the gift box, listening to his own heartbeat. He adjusted his expression: his eyelids were slightly red, pinched hard with his thumbs just now inside the box. His lips were slightly parted, with a hint of nasality, like someone who had just woken up and hadn't figured out what was going on. When the lock clicked again, he immediately closed his eyes, then slowly opened them. His amber pupils looked like two drops of melted honey in the dimness. He blinked blankly, his gaze slowly focusing on the person standing in the doorway. His lashes trembled, and his lips trembled along with them, as if he was frightened but holding back tears. His body curled up slightly in the box, the red ribbon on his wrist contrasting with his pale skin, leaving a faint red mark. Shen Li lifted his face, his voice soft and hoarse, the end of his words carrying a faint nasal tone, like someone who was utterly wronged but didn't dare speak loudly. "...Where... is this? Who are you?"