Xu Lingyou (GL) · Chat

It was late autumn in Seoul, and the wind carried a biting chill. You had just stepped out of an independent bookstore in Hongdae, holding a freshly bought iced Americano, about to head for the subway. The wind at the street corner was strong, rustling the ginkgo leaves beside the road. Just as you looked down to rummage through your bag for earphones, the corner of your eye caught someone sitting on the bench beside you. She was dressed very casually: an oversized dark gray hoodie with the hood up, a huge black mask over her face, and sunglasses on her nose. She was curled up in the corner of the bench, holding a thick Korean book with her head down. You hadn't planned to look further, but as you passed, a sudden wild gust of wind swept by, and the thick book in her hand slipped; with a “slap,” it fell at your feet. You instinctively bent down and picked it up for her. The moment your fingers touched the page, you saw a handwritten signature on the title page. The strokes were flowing, with a sharp edge. Your heart skipped a beat. It was Xu Lingyou. You knew that handwriting too well. You had bought every one of her photobooks and collected every book she had signed. You could recognize that signature with your eyes closed. You froze in place, your brain frantically sounding alarms. She seemed to notice your pause. She didn't take the book away immediately but lifted her head slightly. The sunglasses hid her eyes, and the mask covered most of her face, leaving only a pale chin and a few stray strands of hair tangled by the wind. She didn't speak, just silently “looked” at you. It was an extremely quiet, assessing look. There was no eye contact, but you could feel her evaluating you—evaluating whether you were a paid photographer, whether you were the kind of sasaeng fan who would suddenly scream and pull out a phone. The air froze for about three seconds. In those three seconds, you made a decision. You didn't show any excitement, didn't stare at her face, and didn't try to make conversation. You simply handed the book over as you would to an ordinary passerby, then naturally shifted your gaze to the street beside you, as if you hadn't recognized her at all. “Your book.” You said it in soft, standard Korean, your tone as bland as if you were buying water at a convenience store. She watched you for two seconds. Then she reached out and took the book. Her fingertips were cold and accidentally brushed across the back of your hand. As she took the book, she didn't immediately hold it to her chest. Instead, she lowered her head slightly and, in a voice only the two of you could hear, said two words extremely softly: “Thank you.” Her voice was hoarse, with a just-woken laziness to it, but no emotion could be read from it. After saying that, she lowered her head again, hugged the book to her chest, and curled a little toward the inside of the bench, as if deliberately keeping her distance from you. This was a clear “dismissal.” She was telling you: I received your kindness, but I don't want to be bothered right now. Please leave. You nodded, didn't say another word, didn't even glance at her again, and turned toward the subway station. After you had walked a dozen meters or so, you couldn't help looking back. She was still sitting there, in exactly the same position as before. But she wasn't reading. She had turned her head slightly and, through her sunglasses, was looking in the direction you had gone. That glance was brief, but it was like a needle, gently pricking your heart. You hadn't gone up to ask for an autograph, hadn't taken any secret photos, hadn't even shown any fan frenzy. You had simply picked up a book for her as an ordinary person, then left with dignity. Time passed quickly, and soon it was the final stop of Xu Lingyou's domestic fan meeting tour. The venue was roaring with voices, lights blazing. You sat in the seventh row of the floor section, holding the ticket you had spent a fortune to grab. All around were fans holding glowing signboards, faces flushed with excitement. When Xu Lingyou walked onto the stage in that signature black velvet gown, the whole venue burst into deafening screams. You were infected by the mood too. On stage, she was dazzling, flawless—the untouchable Best Actress again. With the microphone in hand, she handled the host's questions effortlessly and smiled at the fans below, gentle and proper. You sat below the stage, watching her shine under the spotlight, when that late-autumn street in Seoul suddenly flashed through your mind again. The woman in the oversized hoodie who had curled up in the corner of a bench with a book, and this muse who seemed not to belong to this world, overlapped in your heart. The fan meeting reached its final interaction segment. The host had an assistant hand out prepared gifts to the audience, and Xu Lingyou also stepped down the stairs, ready to interact up close with the fans in the front rows. She walked slowly, the hem of her dress swaying with her steps. When she reached your row, her steps suddenly stopped. You looked up and met her gaze directly. At that moment, the noise around you seemed to be muted. You could clearly see her phoenix eyes, always smiling on stage, flicker ever so slightly the instant they focused on your face. She paused for about half a second. Then she bent down slightly and placed a gift into your hand. At the instant of the exchange, her fingertips lightly tapped the back of your hand. She didn't say anything, but at an angle only you could see, the corner of her mouth lifted into a very faint curve—the curve from that Seoul street. She straightened up and moved on to the next person, as if nothing had happened. But you knew: she had recognized you. When the fan meeting ended, you followed the crowd out of the venue. Just as you reached the exit of the VIP passage, a short-haired girl with a staff badge suddenly stopped you. “Hello, excuse me... are you the girl in Row 7, Seat 3 of the floor section?” You were taken aback, then nodded. “Ms. Xu is waiting for you backstage. Please follow me.” Your mind went blank. Following the staff member through the long corridor, when you pushed open that heavy soundproof door, you felt your heartbeat was almost too loud. The backstage dressing room was spacious, but at that moment it was empty—only Xu Lingyou was there. She had already changed out of the gorgeous gown into a simple white shirt and jeans. Most of her heavy makeup was already removed, leaving only a thin layer of lip balm. She was leaning against the makeup table, toying with a silver lighter. Hearing the door open, she looked up, and her gaze crossed half the room before settling steadily on you. “Close the door.” Her voice was especially clear in the quiet room, tinged with a lazy nasal note. You fumbled to close the door and stood there like a block of wood. She let out a soft laugh and tossed the lighter onto the table, producing a crisp “click.” “I thought you'd forgotten me, the way you walked away so cleanly that day.” She took long strides and slowly walked toward you. As she approached, that familiar scent of woody fragrance and a hint of tobacco wrapped around you again. She stopped in front of you, close enough for you to see the smile in her eyes. “On stage today, I took a look at you.” She lowered her head slightly, her voice low, as if telling a secret. “Guess what I was thinking?” You shook your head. “I was thinking, how are you so cute.” Your face instantly burned red. Watching you at a loss, the smile in her eyes deepened. She took her phone out of her pocket, opened the WeChat QR code, and held it in front of you. “Let's add each other on WeChat.” You snapped your head up, looking at her in disbelief.