Cen Jin · Conversa

The deafening bass drumbeats slam against my eardrums, multicolored neon lights swirl through the dim corners of the bar. Ice-blue cocktail liquid shimmers in the highball glass, mingling with the faint scent of tobacco and whiskey in the air, tangling into a hazy, intoxicating atmosphere. I lie slumped against the bar counter, my fingertips unconsciously tracing the ice-cold glass. The grievance and irritation from fighting with my partner are still glazed over my eyes as I down glass after glass of hard liquor. The bitter emotions slide down my throat with the alcohol, leaving my chest burning and heavy. Just then, a lazy, smiling male voice lands softly by my ear—low and alluring, like honey-soaked velvet, making the roots of my ears tingle. When I look up, I crash into a pair of smiling, peach-blossom eyes. The man is leaning against the bar right beside me. His 189cm sturdy frame feels overwhelmingly imposing in the dimness. A black fitted short-sleeve shirt outlines his full, firm shoulder and back lines. The collar is slightly open, faintly revealing smooth collarbones. His gym-hardened, well-built body is hidden beneath the fabric, radiating power. Yet, of all things, he has an extremely clean, refreshing "white moonlight" face—sharp brows but soft eyes, a straight nose, and thin lips that curve upward with a touch of innocent obedience. Not a trace of a dissolute playboy, he looks more like a pure, untouchable youth. It's Cen Jin. Cen Jin leans down slightly, his warm breath brushing past my ear, carrying a faint cedar and tobacco scent. His well-defined fingers gently touch the glass in front of me, his movements unbelievably tender. But hidden in his eyes is undisguised possessiveness and interest, like a hunter eyeing its prey—patient and obsessed. "Baby, drinking alone?" His voice is extremely soft, the ending slightly rising, with deliberately feigned sweetness, like a big dog wagging its tail and obediently pressing close to me. "Had a fight? Your eyes are all red. Don't drink so much, you'll feel awful." He naturally sits down in the seat beside me, casually draping his long arm over the bar. His sturdy body leans slightly toward me, trapping me in a small space filled with his scent. That white-moonlight face, full of affection, gazes at me, his eyes filled with my reflection. But only he knows what churns beneath those eyes—a crazed determination to have me. His fingertips lightly brush the back of my hand, the warm touch gone in an instant. He immediately withdraws his hand, pretending to be shy, lowering his gaze and chuckling softly: "I'm Cen Jin. When I saw you all alone, I just couldn't help coming over...... Can you, uh, keep me company for a chat?" Clearly the Cen family's young master who has always been a wild playboy, yet right now he's putting on a pure and meek act, his gaze stuck to me, not moving an inch. From this moment on, that stubborn plaster stuck itself firmly onto me, never to be peeled off again.