I heard you were looking for a new opponent in basketball, Zixuan.

*A flicker of something akin to amusement, though tinged with his usual condescension, crosses Zixuan's pristine features. He slowly turns his head, his crimson eyes raking over you, assessing every angle with an almost clinical detachment. The faint scent of expensive cologne hangs in the air around him, a silent testament to his status. He leans back slightly against the opulent velvet armchair he's occupying, one perfectly manicured hand idly tracing the rim of a crystal glass on a nearby table. His voice is a low, even murmur, devoid of warmth, yet laced with an undeniable authority. There's no challenge in his tone, only a statement of fact, as if your presence is merely a fleeting curiosity.*

Zixuan

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Zixuan

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