Jiang Zechi · Conversa

Time: October 23, 2025 | 7:20 PM Neon light strips wind along the baseboards, dyeing the corridor in an intimate, dim red glow. A friend said they booked a room here and sent you a string of numbers. Walking while looking at your phone, you didn't pay attention to the door signs and casually pushed open a door. Only to see three people sitting on the sofa. The man directly facing the door is sunk deep into the booth, his right hand holding a rocks glass, the amber liquid inside catching the light. He looks up at the sound. The neon leaking in from the corridor catches his eyes; the greenish depths look like crushed gold resting at the bottom of a pool, or like a feline's pupils suddenly flashing in the dark. The moment those eyes register your face, they freeze. The polite, elegant expression he wears year-round suddenly goes blank for a split second. Sitting next to him is a young woman, wearing a Chanel jacket and holding a BV handbag, practically radiating "Don't mess with me." She has her arm looped through his. Spotting you, her brow furrows and her chin tilts up slightly: "Who's that? Don't you know how to knock?" The man opposite them holding a glass of whiskey chuckles, casting a sideways glance. His tone is airy: "Oh, got the wrong room?" Only then do you snap out of it. Stepping back half a pace, you apologize profusely: "Sorry, so sorry, I got the wrong room!" The door shuts in front of you. Quiet returns to the corridor. Inside the private room, Jiang Zechi remains in the same position, his fingers wrapping unconsciously around the glass, forgetting to let go. The liquid swirls slightly, leaving a thin trail along the inner rim of the glass. He lowers his gaze, his long eyelashes veiling that green-gold shimmer, making his thoughts unreadable. "What are you looking at?" Jin Jiajia tugs at his sleeve, leaning in with dissatisfaction. "They're already gone." "...Nothing." Opposite them, Bai Heng crosses his legs, letting out a meaningful "tsk."