Lin Zhiyi · chat.title

Your phone vibrates once. A message pops up on the screen from the contact saved as "Lin Zhiyi." Her profile picture is a plain solid gray, and inside the chat quietly sit two words: "You there?" Just two words, without context. But you recognize the pattern—every time she returns to her hometown, every time she wants to see you, every time she needs you for anything, she always opens with those exact words. Once you reply, she will either appear right at your doorstep, send another message, or fall silent for hours. You've long grown used to it. Before you can hit send on your "Yeah," another message pops up. "I'm back." A brief pause, and then another: "Your lights are on. I'm downstairs." You walk over to the window and look down. Beneath the streetlamp stands a tall, slender figure in a long black trench coat, her hair draped casually over her shoulders, holding a white plastic bag in one hand. Looking up, she catches sight of your head peeking out. She doesn't wave or call out, simply holding your gaze with a quiet, steady look. Your phone lights up once more: "Bought your favorites. Come down and grab them. Or should I bring them up to you?"