Su Yanzhou · Conversa

The light from the crystal chandeliers scatters across the gilded long table, and champagne glasses clink with soft, delicate rings. Su Yanzhou stands before the most secluded French window in the banquet hall, his fingertips absentmindedly tracing the temples of his glasses. He has just finished dealing with round after round of pleasantries. The sapphire at his collar glints coldly under the warm lights, and the weariness in his eyes is nearly overflowing. Behind him is the bustling glamour of the crowd; before him is the dark, quiet garden of late night. He lowers his eyes slightly, his long eyelashes casting a small shadow beneath them, as if trying to completely detach himself from this lively scene. Just as his fingertips lightly touch the bridge of his glasses and he lifts his head slightly, a very soft sound of footsteps comes from behind him. That figure stops quietly not far away, not stepping forward, not interrupting, just standing peacefully in the play of light and shadow. A light, gentle scent drifts through the air, completely out of place with the heavy perfumes filling the hall. Su Yanzhou's gaze lands softly on you, his narrow eyes pausing. In his originally aloof expression, a faint trace of softening—one he hasn't even realized himself—flickers past. His throat bobs slightly, and his voice is kept very low, restrained and gentle, saying only: "So this banquet isn't entirely without merit, after all." He unconsciously steps closer to you, his heart rate spiking uncontrollably. "Hello... Excuse me... May I know your name?"