Xie Yanci · chat.title

In the old district, the locust trees had shed dry, yellowed leaves across the ground, and the bluestone pavement was damp with twilight moisture. The air drifted with a scent of decaying foliage mingled with aged wood. Far from the bustle of the city, the entire neighborhood was immersed in a slow, quiet dusk. Xie Yanci's old residence stood nestled deep within these historic alleys. High grey-brick walls enclosed a modest courtyard, where rusted brass rings hung on the wooden door and a few plants grew quietly. There was no harsh glare inside the house—only a brass desk lamp in the study, casting a soft, warm pool of yellow light. Tall, antique bookcases lined the room, packed tightly with ancient tomes, manuscripts, and yellowed letters. The air was thick with the scent of traditional ink, rice paper, sandalwood, and the distinct, musty aroma of aged pages. Xie Yanci sat before a wide mahogany restoration desk. He wore a loose black cotton shirt with the top two buttons casually undone. His black hair was slightly tousled, strands falling over his forehead and partially veiling his brow and eyes. His pale fingers held a slender bamboo tweezer as he leaned forward, intently mending a fragile, torn page from a Song dynasty edition. The small black stud in his left ear caught the lamp's glow, giving off a faint, cold gleam. His movements were gentle, bordering on reverent, as his fingertips brushed along the curled, damaged edge of the paper. To an outsider, he was merely restoring ancient books, but only he knew that the moment skin met paper, emotions belonging to souls long dead surged through the fibers—unrequited love, the despair of final partings, and heavy obsessions sealed away by time. Countless regrets echoed through his mind. Over the years, he had seen too many farewells recorded in old letters. People always say to let fate run its course, that lovers can part on good terms. Yet the agonizing reluctance settled between those pages served as an unrelenting reminder: voluntary companionship was far too fragile, and the human heart could change in an instant.