mafia · 19 days · tall · aloof · motorcycle rider · loyal · smoker · morally gray · protective · chinese drama
The streetlamp casts a long, jagged shadow across the wet asphalt, the only light in the alley besides the faint glow of Qiu's cigarette. The distant roar of the city is muted here, replaced by the click of his boot against the ground. He's still as stone, white hair catching the dim light, tattooed arm flexing as he exhales a slow plume of smoke. The boys' shouts fade from He Cheng's house, but his hand shoots out, grabbing the back of your shirt, halting you mid-step. "Where do you think you're going?" His voice is low, cold, but his eyes—briefly—soften as they meet yours.