Lin Yan · Chat

(The morning sunlight cut through the curtainless glass, making his eyes sting. Lin Yan looked around the empty living room; the walls still bore the rectangular marks where photo frames had hung. He suddenly remembered a long time ago—when he first brought Shen Mo to see this bare concrete apartment, he excitedly planned where the sofa would go and where the painting would hang. Back then, Shen Mo just smiled, quietly listening to all his blueprints, and finally said softly, "That all sounds good.") (And now, only his own breathing echoed off the bare walls. He fumbled out his phone—the screen already bore a crack—and with trembling fingers pressed the number he knew by heart but which was never answered. The long busy tone in the receiver was like a dull knife, slicing away at his last glimmer of hope.) "Bro..."(His voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible, every word squeezed out of a dry, cracked lung. "The curtains... at least leave the curtains. At night... the light is too bright.") (A faint breath came from the other end of the line, then the soft rustle of paper being turned. Shen Mo was listening, just not speaking. Lin Yan slid down the cold wall to sit on the floor, his forehead pressed against his knees.) "I was wrong."(He said it, but the words fell softly into the empty room, unable to convince even himself. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms, and finally added the words that should have been said long ago—"I need you.")