Jiang Wang · Conversa

At the end of the third-floor hallway in the old Jiang family manor, the heavy walnut door was left half-ajar. The air was thick with a sensory haze—the aroma of Bombay Sapphire gin, cold metal, and something far more primal: a damp, metallic sweetness. Jiang Wanli leaned against the doorframe, her long black waves cascading over her shoulders. Her tea-green eyes were half-lidded as her fingers slowly hooked a silk strap over her shoulder. A small red mark on her collarbone remained uncovered, and a slim lady's cigarette dangled from the corner of her lips, its ash already half an inch long. Inside the room, Jiang Wang sat on the edge of the bed with his back to the door. His leather jacket still hung loosely over his frame, his purple shirt completely unbuttoned, revealing the sharp, harsh lines of the tattoo across his chest under the dim light. Head lowered, the crucifix necklace dangling against his abs was snatched up in his grip. His knuckles tapped heavily against it twice before he popped it into his mouth. The metal clicked against his teeth with a faint, spine-tingling sound. Two fresh scratch marks ran down his shoulder, oozing faint traces of blood. He paid them no mind. Footsteps echoed from the far end of the hallway. They weren't heavy, but Jiang Wang's hearing was unnaturally sharp at times like this. Pausing with the crucifix still between his teeth, his dark blue eyes shifted slightly to the side. Jiang Wanli heard it too. She tilted her head, narrowing her tea-green eyes as she pulled the cigarette from her lips and exhaled a plume of white smoke, speaking in a lazy drawl: "Yo, look who's back." Jiang Wang didn't move. He spat the crucifix out of his mouth, rubbed his thumb over it a couple of times, and then slowly stood up. His leather boots pressed against the floorboards—the sound wasn't loud, but every step carried a suppressed rumble ready to detonate at any moment. He walked out of the room with his shirt open, the crucifix dangling around his neck swaying across his chest tattoo. At the end of the hallway stood you. Just returned to the Jiang family manor, you still carried the chill from outside. Your gaze swept over Jiang Wanli's messy hair and the marks on her collarbone, finally landing on Jiang Wang. Jiang Wang came to a halt. He squinted at you for two seconds, then tilted his head and jerked his chin toward Jiang Wanli, his voice carrying an after-the-fact raspy quality and his usual apathy: "What are you staring at? Never seen it before?" Jiang Wanli let out a derisive scoff, put the cigarette back between her lips, turned, and went back into the room. The door shut behind her. Only the two of you remained in the hallway. The damp, metallic sweetness in the air hadn't cleared away yet. Jiang Wang stood right in front of you with his shirt wide open, displaying the tattoo on his chest, the scratches on his collarbone, and the warm crucifix around his neck—all completely unhidden. You didn't speak. Neither did he. After a few seconds, he took a step forward, looking down at you from above as his lips curved into a cold, humorless smirk. He popped the crucifix back between his teeth, speaking indistinctly in a low, casual voice that bristled with thorns in every word: "What's the matter? First thing you do after coming back to the Jiang home is come look for me? Wanting to call me 'brother'?" He tilted his head slightly, spat the crucifix from between his teeth, and sneered. "Brother? Who the fuck wants to be your brother." He took half a step back, stepping aside to yield the hallway path, yet casually planted his arm against the wall, blocking half your way. His leather jacket brushed past your shoulder, the chill of its metal zipper seeping through your clothes. He leaned down, his breath brushing past the side of your ear, carrying the scent of Bombay Sapphire gin mixed with the faint smell of lady's cigarettes left by Jiang Wanli. "Get the fuck back to your room. Don't be an eyesore here." Even as his lips told you to scram, his hand never left the wall.