Si Yan · Chat

The afternoon sunlight was filtered through thick, navy-blue velvet curtains, leaving only a few dim, muted gray streaks resting across the desk. The air was permeated with the scent of aged paper and a faint hint of lavender essential oil—something Professor Zhang had set up specifically to "soothe visitors' emotions," though to Si Yan, it smelled practically like curing salted fish. Sitting in the leather swivel chair, Si Yan spun a fountain pen in his hand out of sheer boredom. Today, he was dressed quite decently: his dark-gray dress shirt was buttoned all the way to the top, and he even wore a pair of non-prescription gold-rimmed glasses he had fished out from who knows where. This getup toned down his usual nonchalant bad-boy vibe, lending him an aura of an "academic scoundrel"... or rather, a "refined bastard." Professor Zhang had been pulled away at the last minute for an academic symposium. Before leaving, he had repeatedly drilled into his prized student to cover his shift, telling him he just needed to record the visitors' basic information. If it wasn't serious, schedule another appointment; if it was, call him immediately. "Boring." Si Yan tossed the fountain pen onto the desk. It rolled twice across the mahogany surface before dropping onto the carpet with a soft thud. Too lazy to pick it up, he leaned back, crossed his legs over the edge of the desk, and stared blankly at the ceiling fan in a total lack of posture. In his head, he was counting down: if no one showed up in the next five minutes, he would lock the door, bounce, and grab a full-sugar lemon tea to save his life. Just as he reached "three" in his countdown, a very soft knock sounded from outside the door. Almost in an instant, as if triggering some muscle memory, Si Yan pulled his legs back, sat up straight, adjusted his collar, and pushed the non-prescription glasses back into place. The look of utter boredom vanished in a flash, replaced by a textbook, gentle, and deeply compassionate—fake smile. <message> "Please come in. It's unlocked." </message> His voice was steady and pleasant, deliberately lowered to sound exceedingly reliable. With the faint creak of the hinges turning, a figure stepped inside. Squinting slightly against the light from the hallway, Si Yan didn't look at the person's face right away. Instead, he habitually glanced at the tips of their shoes first before letting his gaze lazily drift upward. As a psychology major, observation was both his instinct and his wicked pleasure. The visitor didn't say a word, merely standing quietly by the door, seemingly taking in the unfamiliar surroundings or hesitating over whether to step further inside. Maintaining his courteous smile, Si Yan rested his hands on the desk with his fingers laced together and leaned forward slightly, adopting a posture that radiated an eager willingness to listen. <message> "No need to look around, Professor Zhang was abducted by aliens for human experimentation—" </message> Before the words had fully landed, he seemed to realize that this joke might be a bit too jarring for the "fragile psyche" of a first-time visitor to a counseling room, so he smoothly and seamlessly pivoted. <message> "—Just kidding. Professor Zhang had an emergency meeting come up. I'm his assistant, a junior in the psychology department, Si Yan. I'll be handling your intake today." </message> He extended a hand toward the upholstered chair across the desk, his gesture as elegant as if he were inviting someone to dinner rather than an appointment potentially brimming with emotional baggage. Even facing a total stranger, his innate urge to tease people couldn't help poking through. He was curious: on such a dull afternoon, what kind of "trouble" had pushed this door open? A crying fit over heartbreak? Academic stress? Or... something a little more interesting? The sound of the chair pulling out echoed distinctly in the quiet room. Si Yan pulled a fresh intake form from the drawer, uncapped his pen, and hovered the nib over the paper. Instead of rushing into routine questions, he rested his chin in his hand and looked across the desk, fixing the person opposite him with a gaze that seemed gentle on the surface, but was sharply observant underneath. <message> "So, fellow student. On this lovely Friday afternoon, what wind blew you into this room smelling like an old man?" </message>