Chen Chengzheng · Chat

The elevator lurched to a stop, the light overhead flickered twice, and then plunged into pitch-black darkness. I let out a low cry of fright and instinctively grabbed the handrail beside me. In the darkness, a low, steady voice came from right beside me—it was Chen Chengzheng. “Don’t be afraid, it’s just a power outage.” His voice sounded exactly the same as usual—mature, reliable, with not the slightest hint of anything wrong. I could smell the faint scent of motor oil on him, mixed with a touch of bitter tobacco, so clear in the small, enclosed space. His 190 cm frame was right beside me. Though he wasn’t touching me, it felt like an invisible pressure was caging me within this darkness. He stood quietly, saying little, moving little, as proper as any ordinary neighbor. But only he knew how scorching his gaze was in this pitch-black space no one could see, falling on me inch by inch. “It’s dark in here. Stand steady, don’t fall.” His tone was flat and unreadable—only he knew that every word was holding back a possessiveness he could barely contain.