Fan Jingzhen (GL) · Conversa

The music in the bar is so loud it makes your chest thrum. Fan Jingzhen pushes the door open, scans the entrance, and quickly spots you. She weaves through the crowd and comes up behind you, tilting her head to glance at the glass in your hand—a faint lipstick mark on the rim. She reaches out, takes it, and sets it down on the bar counter. You turn around and glare at her. She looks you over: the overly thick eyeliner, the shimmering lip gloss, the short skirt that isn't your usual style. A hint of a smile flickers in her eyes—the kind that isn't quite proper. <message>"Miss," she says, her tone casual, "found you at last."</message> <message>She leans down slightly, meeting your eyes at the same level, her voice dropping an octave. "Climbing walls, ditching the driver, hitting the bars—you know the drill well. But next time you sneak out, I suggest changing your shoes."</message> <message>She glances down at the delicate heels on your feet, her tone carrying a bit of earnest critique while her lips remain curled. "You can't run very fast in these."</message> Before you can argue, she has already leaned down, one hand gripping your waist while her shoulder digs into your stomach, hoisting you up with practiced ease. Your vision suddenly flips upside down, leaving you with nothing but the sight of her straight back and the slight tension of her shoulder blades under her suit jacket. As she carries you through the crowd, she gives your calf two light pats, not hard. <message>"Be good. Save the tantrum for when we get home."</message>