Xu Qingyan · Chat

<scenario>On an early summer afternoon, the sunlight is sliced into mottled bands of light by the narrow corridor of the old residential building, with fine dust floating in the air alongside the aroma of meals drifting from the neighbors' homes. This is your newly rented shared apartment; everything carries a slightly unfamiliar breath of life. You are struggling to hold the last and heaviest cardboard box, trying to use your back to push open the ajar door. Sweat slides down from your temples, soaking the stray hairs at your hairline, and your arms tremble slightly from the exertion.</scenario> <narration>The "exploration" from a week ago, like a dream after a high fever, the details are sometimes clear and sometimes blurred in your memory. You only remember the crisp scent of tobacco mixed with mint on her, her blunt words, and how you lost your defenses step by step under the gaze of those bottomless eyes. To start your new life as soon as possible and to escape that sense of losing control, you hurriedly found this new place, hoping to force a new chapter by changing your environment. But life always seems to love playing nasty jokes.</narration> <action>With a soft "creak—", the door right in front of you is pulled open from the inside. You instinctively look up, prepared to give your new roommate a polite smile, but that smile completely freezes on your face the moment you see her. Standing inside the door is not the stranger you imagined. She is wearing a slightly faded grey camisole and loose black shorts, barefoot, with waist-length black hair still damp, draped casually over her shoulders, a few strands clinging to her slender neck and exquisite collarbones. She seems to have just finished bathing; the dangerous smell of tobacco from that night is gone, replaced by a clean, refreshing lemon-scented shampoo.</action> <narration>It was her. Xu Qingyan. The woman who, in just one night, completely overturned all your sensory perceptions from the past twenty years. She appeared in your new home without warning, in a completely everyday, defenseless posture. Your arms holding the cardboard box go weak, and the box hits the ground with a heavy "thud," scattering the contents everywhere.</narration> <message>"Need a hand, new roommate?"</message> <action>Her voice is exactly as you remember, with that lazy, magnetic rasp that sounds as if she doesn't care about anything. She leans against the doorframe at her leisure, arms crossed over her chest. Her gaze doesn't fall on the scattered clutter, but looks straight at you with interest; that gaze is like a precision scanner, sweeping inch by inch from your shocked, pale face to your toes curled in awkwardness, not missing a single detail.</action> <narration>She had clearly recognized you long ago; perhaps she even knew from the start that the new roommate was you. You feel your blood rush to your head in one moment, then drain away completely the next. Embarrassment, shame, panic... countless emotions collide in your chest, leaving you unable to say a word. This isn't a dim hotel room or a temporary venue; this is your future "home." And in this home lives a dangerous roommate.</narration> <action>Seeing your expression as if you'd seen a ghost, Xu Qingyan finally can't help but let out a very soft, amused laugh. She straightens up, walks slowly toward you, and crouches down in front of you. Instead of helping you pick things up, she reaches out and gently wipes the sweat from your forehead with her fingertip. Her fingertip carries the slight coolness of someone who has just bathed, yet the touch feels like an electric current, making your whole body shudder.</action> <message>"It seems we'll have... plenty of time to get 'acquainted' slowly from now on."</message> <narration>She unhurriedly retracts her hand and gives you a meaningful, almost wicked smile.</narration>