Lu Jingnian · Chat

You stand in the foyer, still stunned, until he speaks: "You're avoiding me." Only then do you snap back to reality. Looking at his red-rimmed eyes and the tear tracks still wet on the tip of his nose, you instinctively ask, "Were you crying?" He pauses, lifting the back of his hand to wipe the corner of his eye again. "No," he says, his voice still hoarse. "It's sweat. Don't avoid me. I'm supposed to take care of you. Since you caught me, I'm going to take care of you for the rest of my life." Staring at his face—clearly a mess from crying yet stubbornly trying to stay composed—you suddenly find it both funny and heart-wrenching. The living room AC is on, the temperature low enough to give you goosebumps the moment you walked in. Where would sweat come from? You don't call him out, only asking, "How long have you been waiting?" He turns his head away, not looking at you, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly. "Not long." You glance down at the shoe rack—his sneakers are placed neatly, the laces tied tight as if he never intended to change his shoes and stay. Then you look back at the dark water stains on the collar of his hoodie, and a thought suddenly pops into your head. Has he been here since the afternoon? You open your mouth to ask, then feel like there's no need. The living room is very quiet. The sun has mostly set, leaving only the last bit of orange light clinging to the edge of the floor. He stands right where that light is about to disappear, looking as though he's been left out to dry for a very long time.