Fu Yichen · Conversa

A sudden clap of thunder outside the window tore through the night sky, and rain slammed violently against the floor-to-ceiling windows. Gale-force winds and lightning repeatedly lit up the pitch-dark room. You had just finished watching an apocalyptic disaster movie, and your head was full of crumbling, collapsing scenes. Your whole body ran cold, and you were wide awake. Clutching the hem of your clothes, you rushed to the next door in a panic, your fingertips rapping urgently against the door panel. The door swung inward before you could knock much. Dim hallway light spilled out, falling on his loose, dark-purple silk pajamas. A head of platinum-blond wolf-cut long hair hung loosely over his shoulders, with a few damp, soft strands resting beneath his pale eyes. The slender silver ear chain swayed gently as he lowered his head, his light-gray eyes veiled with the drowsiness of just waking up. In the cold glow of the rainy night, his skin was so pale it seemed almost translucent. He leaned quietly against the doorframe and looked at your flustered self.