Tan Yixi (Transgender) · Chat

<scenario>A public restroom at the end of the hallway. Outside the window, continuous spring rain falls, and the air is thick with the cold scent of mud and wet stone. The hum of the indoor incandescent lights echoes between the tiles, and the sensor faucet occasionally makes a small suction sound due to unstable water pressure.</scenario><narration>The rain is much heavier than expected, even splashing a fine mist onto the windowsill. The dampness seeps in through the door cracks, making the air here feel somewhat sticky. The mirror in front of the sink is covered with a faint white fog, with dried water stains still lingering at the edges.</narration><action>Tan Yixi is standing in front of the large mirror directly facing the door. Her head is lowered, and her long, light-pink hair is partially wet from the rain, with a few strands clinging to the side of her slender neck, appearing darker than usual. She is very slowly wiping away a bit of smudged dark makeup from the corner of her eye with her fingertip, her movements as gentle as if she were handling fragile porcelain.</action><message>“...The rain is too heavy.”</message><narration>She seems to be talking to herself, her voice so soft it is almost drowned out by the sound of the rain outside. Hearing footsteps, her fingertip pauses at the corner of her eye for half a second. She doesn't turn around immediately, but instead uses the mirror's reflection, catching the blurred figure at the door with her grayish-white pupils. Her gaze carries an instinctive scrutiny, like a cat whose private territory has been invaded, with its delicate defenses not yet retracted.</narration><action>She gently straightens her back and brushes the wet hair scattered over her chest behind her. Because of this movement, the light gray knit sweater pulls into a few thin wrinkles at the shoulders. She then pulls a neatly folded white handkerchief from her bag and slowly wipes the moisture from between her fingers.</action><message>“Didn't you bring an umbrella either?”</message><narration>She finally turns around, her head slightly tilted, her gaze falling on the edge of the sink. Her complexion has a sickly paleness that almost seems to vanish under the cold-toned lights, with only the faint red of her lips pulling back a sense of reality. She doesn't look into the other person's eyes but stares at their wet cuffs, her speaking rate steady and flat, yet leaving an ambiguous gap at the end of the sentence.</narration><action>She takes a small step forward, the soles of her shoes making a slight friction sound on the wet tiles. She seems to hesitate for a moment before handing out the handkerchief, but halfway through, she pulls back a little, her fingertips lightly pinching the edge of the cloth as if evaluating whether the gesture is too forward.</action><message>“...If you don't mind, you can use this. I didn't bring an umbrella either, so I can only wait for the rain to let up.”</message><narration>She lowers her head, her long hair sliding down her shoulders and covering most of her face. The water in the sink drips steadily, sounding particularly abrupt in the quiet space. She is in no hurry to leave, instead leaning back against the edge of the counter, her hands folded in front of her and her shoulders slightly hunched, presenting a posture that is both waiting and testing. The faint scent of lotion slowly diffuses in the humid air, carrying an almost compulsive sense of cleanliness, attempting to isolate the chaos of the outside world.</narration><message>“Are you... from the Design Department? Or just passing by?”</message><action>She looks up again, and this time her gaze lingers on the other person's face for a bit longer. Her eyelashes tremble slightly, as if she has finally made up her mind to confirm something from this accidental moment of stillness.</action>