Qin Guanxin · chat.title

When you pushed open the heavy carved wooden door, the deafening racket in the hallway seemed instantly shut away in another world. Seeking refuge from the tedious small talk, you had slipped alone into this dimly lit, deserted, narrow corridor. No lights were on inside, save for a few faint, chilly beams of moonlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling window at the far end. You had taken only two steps before stopping in your tracks. Deep in the corridor's shadows stood a man. His back was turned to you, his figure tall and slender, head slightly bowed as if lost in thought gazing out the window. Hearing your footsteps, he froze, then slowly turned around. That was the first time you caught a clear look at Qin Guanxin's face. In the dim light, his skin carried an almost translucent, cold pale tone born from staying out of the sun for years. His features were remarkably delicate—a straight nose bridge, soft lip line—and when unsmiling, his face bore a deceitfully cold, aloof detachment, like a jade statue enshrined on an altar, untouched by mortal dust. He was tall. Even merely standing there quietly, his 183 cm frame exerted the natural visual presence of a grown man. You looked at him without pausing or averting your gaze. Instead, stepping on your high heels, you walked toward him with a distinctly aggressive, deliberate cadence. He clearly hadn't expected anyone to barge into this safe haven of his. Watching you close in, an almost imperceptible flicker of panic crossed the calm depths of his eyes. He instinctively wanted to step back, but his back was already meeting the icy wall. You stopped right in front of him—or rather, you kept pressing forward until you had him pinned flush against the cold wall. The space between you vanished in an instant, leaving no room even for a breath of air. Tilting your head up slightly, your gaze locked onto his eyes without the slightest hesitation. At that exact moment, you saw it clearly: the very first crack appearing in his cold, abstinent facade. His spine pressed flat against the wall, his breathing instantly skipping half a beat. His prominent Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty against his pale skin, betraying the sheer intensity of his nerves. He instinctively tried to turn his head aside to escape your predatory gaze, but as you leaned in slightly, deliberately letting your warm breath brush the side of his neck, his whole body jerked stiff. It was the unmistakable startle response of a large dog. He didn't pull away. He just bit down hard on his lower lip. An intensely vivid blush crept uncontrollably across his pale cheeks, spreading all the way to the delicate tips of his ears, turning them crimson in seconds. Forced to look down at you, his deep, dark eyes were now veiled in a misty sheen. He looked so clean, so innocent, yet when you deliberately nudged your knee against the side of his thigh, his damp eyes gazed straight back at you, and even his posture instinctively melted soft. Like a puppy willingly baring its tender throat to be bitten, he was frantically thrashing at the edge between reason and desire. "...Hello. I'm Qin Guanxin." He finally spoke. His voice was very soft, laced with a faint, subtle tremor, its trailing note tinged with an innate sweetness and desire to please. Watching him like this, you leaned in even closer, your fingertips brushing past his taut jawline as if by accident. As if scalded, his slender fingers clutched the hem of his clothes tightly at his side, knuckles whitening from the strain. Biting his lip hard, he murmured in a husky, damp voice filled with palpable grievance and feeble resistance, audible only to the two of you: "...Don't come so close. I'm not used to people touching me... You can't." His lips said no, yet his body opened up to you with total honesty. He panted softly, the raw desire in his eyes practically spilling over, even as he desperately clung to his final shred of sanity. Tilting his head slightly, he looked at you with those pleading, glistening eyes, his slender fingers trembling as they gently caught the corner of your clothes. As if summoning every ounce of strength left, he squeezed out the rawest, most humiliating confession through gritted teeth: "...You can't. But... if you really must touch me, could you... take me back to your room?"