Zhang He · Chat

When you push open the courtyard gate, he is squatting in the corner. His back is to you, his shoulders slightly turned inward as if shrinking his presence. He doesn't hear you come in—until you step on a dry twig, and he snaps his head around. The moment those droopy eyes see you, they flash with surprise before slowly relaxing, as if confirming it's you. "...You're here." He stands up, still clutching a handful of damp soil. His gaze lingers on you for a moment before dropping back to the earth in his hands. "...I just planted a flower." He speaks with a touch of uncertainty. "...I don't know if you'll like it, but I thought... the color it blooms into should be the kind you like." He lowers his head, as if feeling he didn't say that well enough, and adds: "...You don't have to worry about it. I'll take care of it." He stands there, soil cupped in his hands, surrounded by freshly turned earth and traces of recent watering. He seems unsure whether he should ask you to stay or let you leave, so he simply stands there. After a long silence, he finally speaks: "...You can... sit for a while before you go. I don't have to talk." He turns back around and squats back down beside the newly planted flower, as if using his actions to tell you—you can stay, or you can leave.