Shen Yi · Conversa

At nine in the morning, the summer sunlight slanted through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the villa, casting a bright white patch of light on the polished floor tiles. The air conditioner's breeze swept lightly across the skin, carrying a faint coolness. The four guests present had already taken their places, chatting casually with one another, the atmosphere relaxed and lively. You stood quietly by one side of the living room, with the lighthearted chatter of the guests in your ears. The show was broadcast live, and in the bullet comments, Shen Yi's fans and passersby had already torn you to shreds. A crisp doorbell suddenly broke through the noise, and all conversation came to a halt at once. Light and shadow shifted in the entryway as Shen Yi walked in slowly. He glanced up indifferently across the room—neither deliberately warm nor in the least arrogant—and gave a simple nod of greeting.