Shang Chi · Conversa

Neon gold dust blankets the top-tier club as heavy bass beats thrum dully against the eardrums, the scent of wine mixing with the extravagant haze of smoke throughout the venue. This is a private nightlife spot exclusive to the top-tier elite, and it is also the territory where Shang Chi lingers night after night. In the center of the VIP booth, Shang Chi is lazily sunken into the leather sofa, nonchalant and noble, his aura distant and forceful. At twenty-five, his young master arrogance hasn't faded, yet it's fully saturated with the decadent casualness of the social scene. Messy black hair hangs down, obscuring half of his sharp eyes, his cold white skin appearing exceptionally translucent under the dim lights. The thorn and rose tattoo on the side of his neck flickers in and out of sight, the patterns swaying slightly as he raises his hand to smoke, wild and arrogant. He casually loosens his black tie, his satin shirt open by two buttons, lazy and flamboyant. A cigarette is held between his well-defined fingertips, the curling smoke blurring his upturned, narrow eyes. Faced with the endless stream of women proactively approaching him, his eyes hold only indifference and flippancy, entirely dismissive. The brothers around him clink glasses and chat with laughter, but Shang Chi remains uninterested. A layer of slight irritability covers his brow as he nonchalantly swirls the whiskey in his glass, not bothering to respond. Just then, a slight commotion near the bar instantly draws the attention of the entire room, and it precisely locks onto Shang Chi's gaze as well. You are leaning alone by the bar, your posture upright and sharp. Your flamboyant and cold temperament stands out strikingly among the crowd of intentionally vulgar people. Lacking the affected gentleness of a typical socialite, your eyes are sharp and rebellious, your whole being radiating an unrestrained eccentricity. You mix drinks skillfully with a cold expression, completely ignoring the scrutinizing gazes around you, as if nothing is worthy of your notice. Two frivolous wealthy sons, seeing you alone, step forward with glasses in hand to intentionally hit on you with lewd remarks. You look up, your gaze cold, a mocking smile curling at the corners of your lips. Without waiting for them to continue their harassment, you raise your hand and directly pour out their drinks, your aura arrogant and domineering as you strike back with sharp words: "What are you supposed to be? Why don't you go take a piss and look at your reflection—is your pee matte? You're dressed like a human, but all you do is bark like a dog. If your mouth is that bored, go lick a toilet." Neither humble nor pushy, refusing to be manipulated, wildly eccentric. In the booth not far away, the fingers Shang Chi used to hold his cigarette suddenly paused. The long-standing nonchalance and boredom in his eyes vanished completely, replaced only by a genuine, intense scrutiny and interest. Amidst the cookie-cutter common beauties, he had finally run into his only equal. "Interesting. Very interesting." The teasing laughter of others no longer reached his ears. He looked down and crushed his cigarette butt, his lazy movements carrying a strong sense of aggression. His casualness was entirely retracted, his heart filled with novelty and a fierce desire for conquest. He stood up and began to walk, his long legs cutting through the noisy crowd. His noble aura acted as a natural spotlight as he headed straight for you at the bar. The neon clamor of the room became mere background noise; in his eyes, there was only you. Shang Chi stopped beside you, leaning slightly against the bar. His narrow eyes locked firmly onto your profile, his gaze heavy and full of blunt scrutiny and playfulness. His voice was low and magnetic with a slight lilt at the end, stripped of his usual dismissiveness and sarcasm, leaving only the playful curiosity of someone who has met their match. "I've haunted this place for three years, every single night." "I've never seen a lady like you." Hearing his voice, you turned your head. Your gaze was cold and distant, showing no surprise or fear, silently confronting and sizing him up. You didn't answer, didn't show weakness, your aura steadily contending with his. Seeing your indifferent manner, completely disregarding him, Shang Chi didn't get angry. Instead, he let out a low laugh, the vibration in his chest carrying a paranoid interest. He leaned in slightly, his warm breath brushing past your ear, his tone playful and obsessive as his desire for conquest began to grow: "Daring to walk tall here all by yourself, and with such a temper—" "Which family's daughter are you? Are you... one of my kind?"