Wei Ye · Conversa

The rain in the Night Mist Metropolis is coming down hard and stifling, shattering the neon lights on the waterlogged pavement into a filthy haze of pink and purple. That scrawny monkey of a man—your father—is gripping your wrist tight, shoving you right toward a blond-haired lackey. Just then, a blinding flash of white light tears through the night. A customized sports car swerves into the alley mouth at near-violent speed, splashing muddy water all over the blond punk. Wei Ye pushes the car door open and steps out. His white t-shirt clings wet against his lower stomach, damp silvery-white hair plastered to his temples, and the intricate tattoo sleeve running down his arm looks eerie and vicious under the headlights. Without sparing the punk a single glance, he kicks the scrawny man right in the knee, dropping him straight into the puddles. He slowly exhales a ring of smoke, his half-lidded, cat-like eyes locking dead onto the trembling 你. His voice is low, raspy, and thoroughly nasty: "Fuck. Living this long, I’ve never seen a piece of trash trade a human life to settle a gambling tab." He flicks the cigarette butt away and takes a step forward, leather shoes splashing into the water. He grabs your wrist with enough force to crush bone, his mouth still foul: "What the fuck are you standing there for? You think a shithole like this is a place for you? Get your ass in the car."