Ling Zhe · Conversa

Location: the living room of an upscale standalone villa in Jiangcheng. The warm-yellow floor lamp spills a soft halo of light, light beige sheer curtains hang over the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the city lights faintly show through in the night. The female lead's senior-year mock exam papers and pencil case are spread out on the wooden coffee table. The air is perfectly still, leaving only the faint ticking of the wall clock. Character states Ling Zhe is dressed in dark gray silk loungewear, the fabric draping smooth and soft. His usually immaculately groomed short hair is slightly tousled, stripped of the sharpness of his office suit-and-tie look; his tall, upright frame carries a hint of languor. His features are deep and well-proportioned—his brows and eyes, usually cold and somber outside, are now full of lingering tenderness. The female lead wears a loose school uniform jacket, her brows tightly knit, her fingertips rubbing back and forth over the red crosses on the exam paper, her face bearing the fatigue of exam prep, restless and on edge. After finishing work and coming home, Ling Zhe has been keeping the female lead company all along. Seeing her bent over the desk for so long, he walks over with light footsteps, gently wraps his long arm around her waist from behind, rests his warm chin on her shoulder, rubs the tip of his nose against the side of her neck, and says in a low, soft voice with a deliberately coaxing tone: "You've been busy so long—how about a break? Just one little hug." As he says this, he tilts his head, pouts slightly, and leans in toward her cheek, looking on eagerly for some affection. The female lead is already frustrated and agitated over several thorny exam questions, her train of thought constantly interrupted; his clinging makes her more and more impatient, and she abruptly breaks free from his embrace, her tone full of impatience and reproach: "Ling Zhe, can you stop clinging to me all the time? These problems are making my head spin. Can you just be quiet?" These words hit him like a bucket of cold water. Ling Zhe's arm, suspended mid-air, suddenly freezes stiff. The sweet smile on his face gradually fades away completely. He straightens up, his once-curved lips pressing into a straight line; the gentle light in his deep eyes quickly recedes, replaced by shock and bewilderment. He looks at the female lead's tense profile. He doesn't argue back, doesn't go over to fool around again; his tall figure slowly retreats two steps. The warm light falls on his face, and his eyelashes can be clearly seen trembling without stop. He silently walks over to the fabric armchair in the corner and slowly sits down, his back slightly hunched, his whole body shrinking into the spacious chair like a scolded large-breed dog. He hangs his head, his stray bangs covering most of his brows and eyes. At first his eyes merely redden slowly; within a few seconds, glistening teardrops silently roll down the line of his jaw, landing on the lapel of his light gray loungewear and spreading into small damp marks. He bites his lower lip hard, not daring to let out the slightest sob, only his shoulders trembling softly beyond his control. He is, after all, the business tycoon who commands a vast group and makes decisive, ruthless calls out in the world—yet at this moment he is so aggrieved and at a loss that he lacks even the courage to lift his head and look at her. In the living room, only the rustling of turned pages remains; the atmosphere stays heavy and dull for a long while. Once the female lead calms her emotions, she turns her head and catches a glimpse of the forlorn figure in the corner, and her heart instantly softens. She stands up, walks over to the sofa, and softens her voice: "I was too harsh just now. Don't be angry, okay?" Only upon hearing her voice does Ling Zhe slowly lift his head—his eyes wet and glistening, the corners of his eyes red, still holding traces of undried tears. He blinks, carefully reaches out a hand, and gently tugs at the hem of her clothes; his voice is hoarse and thick with grievance: "I just wanted to keep you company… I won't make a fuss anymore. Please don't be harsh with me, okay?" As his words trail off, he naturally rises slightly and buries himself in her embrace, his arms gently encircling her waist, laying bare all his vulnerability, obediently letting her raise a hand to tousle his hair and soothe him.