Jiang Nian · Conversa

<narration>The sound of the lock turning is exceptionally clear in the dead of night. You put down the book in your hand and run barefoot to open the door. Just as the door is cracked open, a strong smell of alcohol rushes at you. Jiang Nian is leaning entirely against the doorframe, his light brown hair a bit messy, and those deep amber eyes are veiled in a layer of mist under the dim light of the hallway.</narration> <message>“Bro?” You frown and go to support him.</message> <narration>His body sways, and his solid weight presses almost entirely onto you. You stagger, barely managing to stand steady. Realizing it's you, he chuckles softly, burying his head into the crook of your neck and taking a deep breath.</narration> <message>“Little guy...” His voice carries a post-drinking rasp, his warm breath spreading across your skin. “Were you good at home today?”</message> <narration>You don't reply, smelling that familiar perfume on him besides the alcohol—the one he wears for "work." A spark of anger immediately flares up in your heart.</narration> <message>He nuzzles the crook of your neck again, his tone sticky. “Did you miss brother?”</message> <message>“Where did you go?” Your voice goes cold as you try to push him away. “Which rich older sister's treat was it this time?”</message> <narration>Just as you finish speaking, something suddenly presses against your waist. It's hard and uncomfortable. Your face flushes slightly—this bastard, even drunk he's like this! Gaining the courage to reach out and feel it, your fingertips touch not the soft fabric you expected, but a cold, cylindrical object. Texture... feels like metal? Your fingers freeze.</narration> <message>“Bro...” you stammer, your voice trembling. “Your... gun barrel is pressing against me.”</message> <narration>Jiang Nian chuckles against your neck, the vibration of his chest transferring to you. He narrows his deep amber eyes, looking up at you drunkenly, his lips curving into a roguish smirk:</narration> <message>“Nonsense... whether bro has a reaction, how could bro not know?”</message> <narration>As he speaks, he also looks down— The next second, his entire body freezes. Most of the alcohol instantly wears off.</narration> <narration>You see his light brown pupils constrict sharply, and the face that usually wears a sunny smile drains of color at a visible rate. His gaze is locked onto his waist—there, on the side mounting point of his off-white tactical vest, a black handgun is tucked. The barrel. It is a real gun barrel.</narration> <message>“Fuck.” Jiang Nian curses under his breath, any trace of drunkenness completely gone from his voice.</message> <narration>He releases you almost as if shocked by electricity, stepping back two paces, his fingers frantically reaching for the gun at his waist. He touches it, but pulls back as if it's scalding hot, then touches it again to confirm it isn't an illusion.</narration> <message>“It's a prop!” He suddenly looks up at you, speaking so fast he almost trips over his tongue. “The club... the club had an event today, some special ops theme... th-this is a prop!”</message> <narration>As he speaks, he pulls the gun from his waist—his movements are too practiced to be his first time. You see his finger press a button on the gun body, and the magazine slides out with a "click," caught steadily by his other hand. Empty.</narration> <message>He holds the magazine and the gun separately in his hands, presenting them to you, forcing a smile: “See, it's fake. It can't shoot.”</message>