Late night, S-District, Nightfall Club.
Inside the second-floor private booth, the air was thick enough to wring moisture from, saturated with expensive fragrances, the faint lingering scent of cigars, and the sharp tang of evaporating alcohol. The dark velvet curtains were drawn tight, sealing out the city’s restless lights and leaving only a few recessed spotlights embedded in the walls to dimly trace the room’s opulent silhouette.
This was a members-only establishment. The privacy was impeccable, and the soundproofing was so thorough that the clamor outside couldn’t penetrate at all, leaving only the low, lazy strains of jazz flowing from the speakers.
Xi Liye sat alone on a single-seater velvet sofa in the innermost corner, his long legs crossed casually. He hadn’t touched the glass of whiskey poured on the low table before him. Instead, his fingertips held a small “perler bead” cat charm, which he toyed with absentmindedly against the beam of the spotlight.
The cat was in a lazy pose, reflecting a weak luster under the cool white light.
His phone screen was lit, resting on his chat with Qin Yu. The latest message was from half an hour ago.
Qin Yu: *Where are you? The boys are all waiting. We agreed to come out and relax; don’t you dare bury yourself in the lab again.*
Qin Yu:*Sent you the location. Nightfall Club, the usual spot.*
Xi Liye had just stepped out of the lab at that time, his body still carrying the faint, cold scent of disinfectant mixed with some reagent. Looking at the location Qin Yu sent, his initial instinct had been to refuse outright.
But his fingertip hovered over the screen, pausing for a few seconds.
The image of Wen Chu from the afternoon flashed through his mind—the way she looked by the court clutching his jacket, her nose flushed bright red, and the sight of her retreating back as she scrambled into the dormitory building after his “Let’s have a hug” comment.
The lab data had been organized; the preparations for the next stage of the experiment would take time.
And so, in the interval of waiting…
He turned off the screen, grabbed his car keys, and changed his direction from his apartment.
Now, sitting in this space—so diametrically opposed to the lab, filled with relaxation and desire—he strangely felt no sense of discord or discomfort.
“Brother Xi, what are you playing with all by yourself? You’re so focused.” A young man wearing a floral shirt with two buttons undone sauntered over with a glass in hand. It was Zhao Cheng, the youngest son of the Zhao mining family and one of Qin Yu’s friends.
Following Xi Liye’s gaze, he spotted the tiny bead charm. “Yo, what’s this? A gift from a girl?”
Xi Liye didn’t look up. With a slight movement of his fingers, he closed his palm around the cat charm, the smooth plastic texture pressing against his skin.
“Mhm,” he hummed tonelessly, his emotions unreadable.
“So you really are seeing someone?” Zhao Cheng grew interested and sat on the sofa beside him. “Qin Yu was being all mysterious about it; I thought he was pulling my leg. What kind of goddess could take down our Great Young Master Xi? When are you bringing her out for us to meet?”
Xi Liye finally raised his eyes to look at Zhao Cheng. His gaze was calm, almost devoid of edge, yet the playful expression on Zhao Cheng’s face involuntarily stiffened.
“She’s shy around strangers,” Xi Liye said succinctly, his intent to refuse being crystal clear.
“Right, right. A hidden treasure then.” Zhao Cheng shrugged tactfully and stopped prying, turning the conversation instead to the recent stock market and a newly opened racetrack.
Xi Liye listened half-heartedly, the cat charm in his palm growing slightly warm from his body heat.
His thoughts drifted.
*Shy around strangers… indeed.* If you get even a little bit close, she bristles like a startled cat, her eyes rounding out. She is prone to “exploding,” and likes to put on a front of baring her claws and teeth.
*Clumsy, and a bit cute.*
“Old Xi,” Qin Yu said, dismissing two girls who had approached to chat before sitting on Xi Liye’s other side with a glass of ice water. He lowered his voice. “You’re something else. You came all this way just to contemplate the meaning of life?”
He glanced at Xi Liye’s closed fist and teased, “Clutching a token of love, are we?”
Xi Liye opened his hand and placed the cat charm back into the inner pocket of his coat, right next to where he kept his phone.
“Anyway, what brings Young Master Xi out today?” Qin Yu joked.
“Didn’t you ask me to come?”
“Please. I’ve asked you out at least eighty or a hundred times. Why did you actually show up *this* time?” Qin Yu took a sip of water, paused, and couldn’t help but ask, “How are things with Wen Chu? You didn’t scare her, did you?”
He was genuinely a bit worried. Qin Yu knew Xi Liye too well—the man was brilliant, but cold to a near-inhuman degree. When he was interested in something, his focus and desire to investigate could be terrifying. Wen Chu seemed like a normal, slightly timid girl; he hoped she wouldn’t be “dissected” by the great Young Master Xi.
Hearing this, Xi Liye’s gaze fell upon the amber liquid in front of him, the glass walls covered in a fine mist of condensation.
*Scared?*
He recalled Wen Chu’s flushed cheeks and panicked eyes.
“No,” he answered with certainty.
Seeing him so unruffled, Qin Yu actually felt even more uneasy. He gave a dry laugh. “That’s good then… just rein it in a bit. It’s your first relationship, be nice to the girl.”
He paused, deciding to switch to a safer topic. “By the way, what do you think of Old Man Wang’s project on nerve regeneration? He’s sent messengers three or four times now; he’s practically ready to corner you in the lab himself.”
As the topic shifted to business, the idle aura about Xi Liye—as if he were observing some invisible experiment—receded. His spine straightened imperceptibly, and the rare slackness in his eyes vanished instantly, replaced by his customary coldness and sharp logic.
“The data model is still flawed. The initial samples he provided aren’t active enough,” Xi Liye said concisely. “Unless he can obtain a control group closer to actual human tissue damage environments, the success rate is under 30%. The input-to-output ratio isn’t worth it.”
Qin Yu clicked his tongue inwardly. Old Man Wang was a titan in the academic world, and that project was being hailed with high hopes—countless Ph.D.s were fighting tooth and nail to get in. Yet in Xi Liye’s hands, it was stripped bare in a few sentences and sentenced to death for poor cost-effectiveness.
The two began to converse in low tones about the project’s details. Xi Liye didn’t say much, but every word hit the mark with terrifying logic, quickly dominating the rhythm and direction of the conversation.
The music in the booth changed to a slightly faster tempo. The others were playing dice, their laughter rising in bursts.
Xi Liye leaned back against the sofa, listening to Qin Yu’s analysis, but his gaze once again drifted involuntarily toward the pocket of his coat.
“By the way… those public account articles you sent last time were quite interesting.”
Qin Yu: “???”