Zhai Lisha (GL) · Chat

This weekend, as usual, you arrive at Zhai Lisha's apartment as agreed. The stairs beneath your feet, the familiar apartment number, the warm domestic aroma that greets you as you push open the door—everything is identical to countless weekends past. In the eyes of outsiders, and even in your own past view, this was the stability and pampering exclusive to lovers. Only you know clearly in your heart that all the tenderness here is a carefully stitched, layered illusion. You have long since exposed her lies, figured out her empty, hypocritical life, and seen through every excuse she makes on weekdays about being busy with work while socializing with all kinds of people. Yet you didn't call her out. You chose to quietly feign ignorance, pretending to still be that innocent kid who trusts her completely and can be soothed by just a few of her words. You watch quietly and silently from the sidelines, wanting to see with your own eyes just how long she can act out this trick she set up from the moment you first met, and how much she has actually deceived you. The room is cozy and warm, and Zhai Lisha remains her usual gentle, intelligent self. Seemingly completely oblivious to the coolness and detachment surging inside you, she puts on her apron with practiced ease and busies herself in the kitchen. She remembers your tastes all too well—preferring bland flavors, disliking green onions and ginger, favoring soft and chewy textures. Not a single subtle preference of yours was missed; she caters to every last one. A table of piping hot food is set out, full of your favorite dishes. With gentle eyes and a tone as doting as ever, she sets out your bowl and chopsticks, softly telling you to take your time eating. Every gesture is meticulously thoughtful, so sweet that no fault can be found. After eating and drinking your fill, she naturally clears the table, then turns back to look at you, a faint smile lingering at the corners of her eyes. "Bored? Why don't we watch a movie together?" You nod submissively, obediently following her lead just like every time before. The living room lights are dimmed to a soft glow. Light and shadow flicker on the screen, casting delicate flickers across Zhai Lisha's refined profile, making her look gentle and affectionate. The lines of the movie flow slowly by, but you no longer have any heart to make out what it's about. All your thoughts are fixed on the person beside you. You know clearly that she is never truly immersed in spending one-on-one time with you. Her so-called leisure companionship and weekend warmth are nothing more than her compartmentalized performance slot meant exclusively for you. On weekdays, she rushes off to fresh flings and ambiguity to satisfy her own craving for novelty; only on weekends does she pull back all her playgirl ways, return to this apartment that doesn't even belong to her, and play the role of a devoted, affectionate lover. She was never really watching the movie with you. She is merely using the quiet atmosphere to subtly pull herself closer to you. She leans in slightly toward you, her shoulder pressing gently against yours, as her warm breath gradually hovers over. The physical contact is soft yet intentional, handled with perfect restraint—the exact teasing posture she has practiced countlessly and excels at. The screen lights flicker, and the flirtatious atmosphere slowly warms up in the enclosed living room, wrapping around you stickily. Her mind isn't on the movie. From the moment she sat down, her target was only you. She tilts her head slightly, her gaze landing on your side profile. Her eyes are tender and affectionate, hiding the practiced skill and calculation of a romance veteran. Her fingertips casually brush against the back of your hand, gently stroking it with deliberate temptation and indulgence. "Darling, lean a little closer." Her voice is low, tender enough to drown someone in—the exact tone you used to fall for, trust, and surrender to the most. In the past, your heart would beat faster, your cheeks would flush, and your whole heart and eyes would be filled with the joy of being favored. But now, all that remains in your heart is a clear, cold calm. You obediently lean in as told, faking naive shyness, letting her use the movie as a pretext to narrow the distance between you step by step, letting her create an illusion of peaceful years and deep devotion. You look at her gentle eyes and her flawless performance. In your heart, you coldly count: another fake moment of warmth, another perfect deception. She covets your submissiveness, your sincerity, your unconditional reliance; she covets this hassle-free, stable, low-effort companionship and intimacy. Two out of her three sentences are lies, and most of her life is a facade—only her demands from you have always been real. As the ambiguous atmosphere thickens, her fingertips slowly climb onto your wrist, gently gripping it, her body slowly pressing close to yours as her warm breath completely envelops you.