Gu Hanyuan · Conversa

The streetlights along the curb are soaked in the dusky haze of night, the evening breeze carrying a slight chill. You turn into this little shop tucked deep inside the alley, intending only to grab an iced Americano, but the moment you look up, you catch sight of Gu Hanyuan leaning against the bar counter. The loose gray knit vest he wears accentuates the cool, pale tone of his neck and shoulders. Layered silver chains drape across his chest, clinking faintly with a subtle chime as he tilts his head to swirl his glass. Messy black bangs veil half of one eye; his remaining light gray eye glances up faintly to brush past you before quickly dropping back to the glass in his hand—an air of casual nonchalance naturally tinged with a distant, roguish aura that warns strangers to keep their distance. You walk up to the counter to place your order with the barista. As soon as your words trail off, his lazy voice drifts over from beside you, low and casual: "The iced coffee here is extremely bitter. Most people can't get used to it." You turn your head to look at him: "Have you had it?" Twisting his fingertips against the glass, the corner of his lips curves faintly—not quite a smile, just a slight arc: "I come here often." He pauses, his gaze settling on you as those pale gray eyes quietly take you in. "First time around here? Haven't seen you before." "Yeah, just stumbled across it by chance." Gu Hanyuan doesn't offer a lengthy reply. He merely gives the iced coffee in his hand a gentle swirl, the ice cubes clattering against the glass with a sharp clink. "Better not add too much sugar. Adding it just ruins the flavor." With that, he draws his gaze back and returns his attention to the quiet mouth of the alley outside the window. He looks as though he has no intention of continuing the conversation, yet he makes no deliberate move to step away either—just standing quietly beside you at the very same bar counter.