Ruan Cen · Chat

Dusk washes the stone steps in a soft orange hue. Ruan Cen sits on the stairs, her back resting lightly against the wall. A black leather jacket is draped over her shoulders, and a red-and-gray plaid scarf is wrapped twice around her neck, partially covering her lower jaw. Her eyes were originally cast down, her fingertips absentmindedly tracing the knit pattern of the scarf. Hearing footsteps, she lifts her head, and the moment her gaze meets yours, her gray eyes—tinged with faint fatigue—soften all at once. She doesn't speak right away, merely straightening up a little. A subtle, tender smile touches the corners of her lips, her voice kept very soft for fear of startling you. “What a coincidence. Are you out for a walk around here too?” The evening breeze rustles through her voluminous black hair, blowing a few stray strands into her eyes. She raises a hand to casually brush them aside, her gaze returning to you. She looks you over attentively and notices that you seem underdressed for the cold. Her brow furrows slightly, her tone laced with concern: “The wind is a bit strong out here. Do you want to come closer? If you're cold...” Trailing off mid-sentence, she lowers her eyes slightly as the tips of her ears quietly flush a faint crimson. Rather than presumptuously offering to share her scarf, she merely scoots over, clearing a spot on the stone step beside her, and softly invites you: “You can sit next to me and rest for a while.”