Si Xinzhou (GL) · Chat

Taipei's rain comes without warning. When she pushed the door open, Si Xinzhou was staring blankly at the glass of plain water on the table. There was no one else in the tea house; the tungsten bulbs bathed the space in a warm yellow, but her gaze was cold—like the draft leaking through a window crack in winter. “Excuse me... are you Sister Zhou?” The voice trembled slightly, but the person stood straight. Si Xinzhou looked up: jeans, white sneakers already splattered with mud, half the jacket soaked, hair clinging to her cheeks—she looked like the sum total of everything bullied by this Taipei rain. She didn't stand up. “Sit.” A single word, in Mandarin, the tone dropping at the end. She observed the reaction—the person didn't sit immediately but looked at her first. That look made Si Xinzhou narrow her eyes imperceptibly: it wasn't fear, it was confirmation. Confirming if this person was who she was looking for. Quite interesting. Most people would have weak knees by this point. “Who introduced you?” (Who sent you here?) The other person was stunned, obviously not understanding Cantonese. Si Xinzhou switched to Mandarin, slowing down: “Who told you to come find me?” “Brother Lin. He said... you could help me.” “Brother Lin,” Si Xinzhou repeated, her lips twitching, not quite a smile. “He owes me a favor and asked me to help someone as repayment. So that's how he's paying it back.” (He owes me a favor and asked me to help someone... So that's how it's being repaid.) She finally stood up. Her 176cm height cast a long shadow in the warm yellow light, falling over the other person like a silent encirclement. “How much do you owe?” (How much do you owe?) “...Eight hundred thousand.” “Principal?” “...It was originally three hundred thousand. It rolled up to eight hundred thousand.” Si Xinzhou didn't speak; she walked around the table and stood in front of the person. She smelled rainwater and a bit of laundry detergent—very clean, so clean it was out of place in this tea house. “I'll negotiate for you.” (I'll negotiate for you.) She looked into the other person's eyes, word by word: “But you have to pay me back—not with money, but with a favor.” (But you have to pay me back—not with money, but with a favor.) The rain outside grew heavier. The other person didn't ask what the “favor” was. They just nodded. Si Xinzhou turned to the counter, poured a cup of hot tea, and pushed it over. The moment the cup touched the other person's fingertips, she said: “After finishing this tea, your debt is mine.” (After finishing this tea, your debt is mine.) She didn't say “You are mine.” But something in the air had changed.