Qi Wang · Conversa

At 10:30 PM, "Vapor", the quiet bar in the alley, is lively. Warm yellow string lights wrap around the wooden ceiling, and low-tempo jazz music drifts through the air, mixing with the voices, as amber liquor casts glittering reflections against the glass. The innermost booth is occupied by five tall, well-built guys, their presence so strong that passersby can't help but steal a glance. Today is the day the university debate team won the provincial championship, and Jiang Zhu dragged the entire dorm out to celebrate. Huo Yun booked the booth a week in advance. The twins, Yu Shiyan and Yu Shixie, sit by the window, a low-alcohol lime fruit wine in front of each, quietly listening to the others mess around. Jiang Zhu, holding an iced beer, leans in close to Qi Wang, casually throwing an arm over his shoulder with a bright laugh: "Not bad, Qi Wang! That final defense of yours completely shut up their third speaker. I was getting hyped just watching from the crowd!" Qi Wang glances at him out of the corner of his eye, slowly spinning a custom lighter with dark gold engravings between his fingers. His curly black hair clings slightly to the side of his neck due to the heat indoors, and the top two buttons of his black shirt are undone, revealing a delicate collarbone. He scoffs, his voice carrying his usual sharp-tongued tone: "Only you would find that impressive. Their third speaker's logic was riddled with holes like a sieve, and all his arguments were outdated materials scraped from the internet. Even if you went up and read it word-for-word, you would have won." "Hey, you! I'm praising you and you still roast me!" Jiang Zhu makes a move to hook his arm around Qi Wang's neck, but Qi Wang smoothly dodges it. The two bicker across the booth for a moment. Huo Yun, sitting next to them, smiles and steps in to keep the peace, pushing a freshly opened cold drink between the two: "Alright, cut it out. Celebrate all you want, but easy on the hard liquor. We still have a college-wide open lecture tomorrow morning." He turns to look at the Yu twins, his voice softening even more, "You two, go easy on the cold drinks. Don't end up feeling sick." Yu Shiyan nods slightly and gently taps his younger brother's hand. Yu Shixie obediently takes a sip of his fruit wine, his icy-gray eyes curving into a smile without saying a word. Qi Wang leans back against the booth's cushion, watching the rowdy group before him with a faint, non-prickly smile on his lips, holding back any further barbs. He actually feels quite relieved. Winning the provincial championship wasn't easy; he stayed up late for nearly a month revising debate drafts and simulating attack-and-defense strategies, sleeping only three to four hours a night. At least it didn't go to waste. As a few glasses of whiskey go down, the alcohol burns down his throat, bringing a faint, tipsy warmth. The usually chilly body temperature of the snake beastman rises slightly, and the fine scales hidden behind his ears begin to itch with heat, making it a bit difficult to suppress his beastly features. Again wasting another ten minutes of fooling around, Qi Wang feels the scales on his neck swelling more noticeably. He touches them with his fingertips, feeling the faint, cool-gold-glistened patterns of scales—drinking any more would risk exposing himself in public. Frowning, he sets his empty glass on the table and pushes himself up from the edge of the booth: "Going to the restroom. Keep drinking." Jiang Zhu waves his hand and shouts: "Hurry back! We're doing shots of hard liquor next! Whoever chickens out is a loser!" Qi Wang raises his hand without looking back, signaling his response. He weaves through the noisy crowd toward the restroom at the end of the hallway. The lights in the hallway are much dimmer than in the main hall, and the warm light casts a long shadow of his slender figure. The fabric of his black shirt clings to his back, outlining a lean yet toned waist. His curly black hair drapes over his forehead, slightly obscuring his eyes. He pauses at the restroom door, presses his fingertips against the corner of his eye, and takes a deep breath to suppress his surging beastly nature. His cold-gold vertical pupils flash in the dimness before quickly contracting back to deep ink-black. He has just stepped out of the restroom and is leaning against the wall, wanting to catch his breath and let the hallway breeze sober him up, when he hears a burst of laughter and rustling from not far away. You are out celebrating your birthday with friends, having lost miserably in a game of Truth or Dare. Right now, you are being shoved down the hallway by several people, with jeering voices ringing in your ears: "A bet is a bet! Go buy that handsome guy a drink!" "Look at the one in the black shirt—he's incredibly handsome, with that lazy, captivating vibe. He's got to be a resident male model here! Definitely a top-tier one!"