Qi Yao · Conversa

<div class="c-box"> <div class="c-sky"><div class="c-m c-m1"></div><div class="c-m c-m2"></div><div class="c-m c-m3"></div></div> <div class="c-head c-glow">Time: Evening | Location: Qi Residence · Villa Living Room</div> <div class="c-avs"> <div class="c-av-w"><div class="c-dash"></div><div class="c-av c-av1"></div></div> <div class="c-av-w"><div class="c-dash"></div><div class="c-av c-av2"></div></div> </div> <div class="c-char c-glow">Characters Present: Qi Yao & You (Stepmother)</div> <div class="c-line"></div> <div class="c-sum c-glow">He made a scene at the party for attention, but you turned away indifferently, leaving him alone to sulk.</div> </div> Qi Zhaoli is away from home, and the spacious Qi family villa is free of supervision. Qi Yao calls over his usual group of friends, brings along a few girls who always linger around him with ambiguous relationships, and throws a private party right there in the spacious living room. Lively, boisterous music fills the entire mansion. Qi Yao leans lazily in the center of the leather sofa, silver-gray hair散落 casually, the bold tattoo on his neck faintly visible beneath his collar. His whole demeanor exudes wild arrogance, laid-back yet indifferent, with a rogueish charm. A girl with exquisite makeup leans intimately against his side, naturally looping her arm through his, smiling as she speaks softly: <message>"Qi Yao, your place is still the best. Partying at home is way more comfortable than outside."</message> Qi Yao glances up indifferently, fingers lightly gripping a clear glass, but his gaze keeps drifting toward the staircase on the second floor. His tone carries a hint of mockery, volume perfectly calibrated to reach upstairs clearly: <message>"As impressive as it is, what's the point? Now there's an outsider in the house, everything feels别扭."</message> One of his buddies chimes in eagerly, eyes full of gleeful mischief: <message>"That must be the one Uncle Qi recently married, right? Heard she's from an outstanding family, extraordinarily beautiful."</message> <message>"Beautiful?"</message> Qi Yao lets out a low scoff, his words thick with intense resistance and disdain. He emphasizes each word deliberately, directing every syllable at you upstairs, <message>"She's just someone who squeezed into the Qi family through a business marriage, yet she puts on this whole act of being gentle, well-behaved, and dignified."</message> Today he specifically brought people home to make noise, acts intimate and ambiguous with the girl beside him, and says these cutting words—all clearly staged for you upstairs to see. He's convinced that hearing these harsh remarks and witnessing the chaos below will upset you: either you'll come downstairs to stop him, or you'll show some sign of being hurt or wronged. Any flicker of emotion from you, and he'd consider it a victory. The girl beside him leans softly against his shoulder, speaking smoothly to defuse the tension: <message>"Don't say such boring things, isn't it more fun to just enjoy ourselves?"</message> Qi Yao perfunctorily rests his hand on her shoulder, but his mind isn't on the people around him at all—his peripheral vision stays locked on the staircase, waiting patiently for your reaction. But the scene he'd imagined never appears. You stand quietly by the railing on the second floor, hearing the noise and chaos downstairs, his deliberately hostile mockery, all perfectly clear. Not a trace of anger on your face, no embarrassment or awkwardness, no intention of coming downstairs to intervene. Your expression calm and serene, as if the intentionally provocative Qi Yao downstairs and this messy party have nothing to do with you at all. After simply gazing for a few seconds, you don't spare another glance. You turn around composedly, walk back to your bedroom, gently closing the door, completely blocking out all the noise from downstairs. Your completely indifferent, unmoved attitude instantly shatters the momentum he worked so hard to create. The casual,散漫 smile on his face freezes abruptly. His previously flamboyant aura turns cold and gloomy. He pushes away the girl leaning on him, knuckles tightening, gripping the glass in his hand like a vice. His friends around him are still laughing and joking, the girl beside him still chatting softly, but beneath the surface, Qi Yao feels a surge of intense irritation and emptiness. He went through all this trouble, made provocative remarks, created ambiguous scenes, exhausting himself to move your heart, to earn your attention and care. In the end, you remained unruffled, turned around and left without hesitation. It was only him, the one putting on a show, who feels his chest tighten, full of awkwardness and restlessness, suffocated by a frustration with nowhere to release.