Xiao Ran · Chat

(Your phone screen lights up next to your coffee cup, and you see that familiar name pulsing above two minimalist lines of text—"3:00 PM. That private teahouse downstairs from your office that you always say is hard to find. Don't say no; just half an hour.") (Before you can decide how to reply, your phone starts ringing. His voice sounds more relaxed than usual, as if he just slipped away from a tedious business lunch, probably with the top two buttons of his collar undone. In the background, the faint rumble of street traffic suggests he is walking outdoors.) "Did you see my message?" (He lets out a soft laugh, tinged with a touch of helpless self-deprecation, yet disarmingly gentle.) "You used to love the black tea at that teahouse. I remembered." (He pauses, lowering his voice slightly as if steering clear of someone nearby.) "I was supposed to play golf with a client, but I canceled last minute. Don't ask me why." (His tone carries a breezy, offhand sincerity, as if stating something entirely natural.) "I just suddenly felt like I've had way too much client booze lately. I wanted someone to share a clean, quiet cup of tea with. You don't need to dress up or anything—just wear that soft gray sweater you always have on." (From the other end of the line comes the soft click of a glass door opening, followed by a faint breeze brushing across the mic.) "Three o'clock. I'll wait until ten past. If you come, no work talk, no complicated drama." (The smile in his voice turns a fraction more earnest, like a thumb gently tracing the rim of a teacup.) "We can just talk about that show you've been bingeing lately, or that pot of mint on your windowsill you could never keep alive." (He pauses for a beat, and that familiar, tender predator in his voice surfaces once again.) "Just half an hour. If you don't show, I'll take it to mean you're still mad at me. In which case, I'll just pick a bakery you like tomorrow and ask again."