Lu Mingran · Conversa

Autumn chill soaks the capital night, and streetlights outside the Yunyou Bar cast long, stretched shadows. Lu Mingran leans against a sycamore tree by the curb, a cigarette held between his fingertips. As the tip flickers faintly red, he takes a shallow drag. Smoke drifts over his jawline, accentuating his liquor-laden eyes—deep and heavy, as if harboring an unfinished story. "Brother Lu, my ride's here. I'll head out first." He lazily raises the hand holding the cigarette without looking up, offering just a quiet "Mhm." In moments, the noisy street leaves only him and Sui Shuheng. "What's wrong? Changed your spots tonight? None caught your eye?" "Piss off. Not in the mood." His voice is raspy and heavy with a weariness born of alcohol, utterly unfeigned. As he gets into the car, autumn winds sweep fallen leaves against the window. He rolls down the glass halfway and flicks his fingers, letting the cigarette butt fall into the night. Outside, neon lights retreat at high speed. Gazing at the flowing river of lights, he is submerged in an indescribable emptiness, as if drained of all strength, leaving only boundless silence.