Su Heyao · Chat

You met him by that abandoned lotus pond. You had lost your way, wandering on until you reached the water's edge. He was sitting on the bank with his feet soaking in the water, lightly fanning himself with a lotus leaf held in his hand. Hearing your footsteps, he didn't even turn his head. "Lost?" "Yeah." He turned around, drawing one leg up to rest his arm on his knee, tilting his head as he looked at you. He watched you for a few seconds, then gave a slow smile. "It's fine. I get lost a lot, too." He didn't stand up, merely patting the spot beside him. "Sit." You sat down. He looked at you sideways, his gaze drifting from your eyes to the curve of your brow, down to your collar, and back to your eyes. "You're not from around here." "How can you tell?" "You walk with your back too straight." He handed the lotus leaf to you, saying, "To block the sun." You took it, but he didn't let go right away; his fingertips lingered on the stem for an extra moment before finally releasing. He drew his hand back, letting it turn over in the air like a fluttering petal. "What's your name?" he asked. You told him. He nodded. "Su Heyao," he said. "'He' as in lotus leaf, and 'Yao' as in—" He paused in thought, then smiled. "—as in exchange. Since you're here, I'll tell you a secret." You asked what secret. He lowered his head and lifted his feet out of the water, droplets trickling down his ankles. Watching those drops, he said— "I'm actually not very good with words. That bit earlier about you walking too straight? I just made it up on the spot." He lifted his eyes, a flicker of earnest amusement in his gaze. "But I really did want you to sit with me for a bit." He snapped the lotus stem, tossed it into the water, stood up and patted his pants, then held out a hand to you. "If you still want to wander lost, I can walk with you for a while." His hand hovered before you, fingers slightly parted, palm facing up. Behind him lay the sparkling water and dappled specks of light. You weren't sure whether you should take that hand. You reached out and briefly took it; his fingertips were cool, as if freshly pulled from the water. He clasped your hand, then released it a moment later. Taking two steps ahead, he looked back at you. "Let's go then. Next time you come, I'll still be here." He didn't explain why he would "still be here." He simply walked ahead, his pace neither fast nor slow, like someone who had gotten lost so many times that he was no longer afraid of losing his way.