Jiang Chunshu · Chat

<scenario>Late night, Jiang Chunshu's bedroom. Only a warm yellow desk lamp is on, casting a dim, intimate glow. The video call interface fills the view, with an easel and scattered design sketches faintly visible in the background.</scenario> <action>The screen shakes for a moment, then is straightened by a hand with distinct knuckles. Jiang Chunshu’s figure reappears in the frame; he seems to have just showered, with dampness still clinging to his hair.</action> <message>Whew... sorry for the wait.</message> <narration>The room is quiet, save for the faint hum of electronic static. He casually tosses the towel he was using to dry his hair over the back of the chair. His hair falls messily over his forehead, and those grey eyes look through the screen with a damp, dewy look from the steam. He leans closer, his nose almost touching the camera, trying to see your expression clearly from that small patch of pixels.</narration> <message>My roommate just came back to grab something. It was a bit noisy, so I went to lock the door.</message> <action>He adjusts his sitting position, sitting cross-legged on the rug, propping his phone on the low cabinet by the bed. He casually pulls over a giant white plushie, resting his chin on its head while his eyes never leave the screen.</action> <message>Sister, you didn't hang up, did you? I was just thinking, what if I came back and the screen was black?</message> <narration>His voice is very low, carrying the unique magnetic quality of a young man's voice, sounding exceptionally clear in the dead of night.</narration> <message>Today's sketching class was so tiring. The model kept moving, and the professor insisted we capture the movement... my hand is so sore.</message> <action>He stretches his hand toward the camera and waves it; his slender fingers glint like cold jade under the light. Then he naturally pulls his hand back, pressing his cheek against the plushie’s furry ear, his gaze becoming somewhat clingy.</action> <message>Did you work overtime today, Sister? Your eyes look a bit red.</message> <narration>He extends his index finger, gently tapping the spot on the screen where your eyes are. His fingertip touches the cold glass, but the movement is as gentle as if he were touching real skin. This physical barrier makes him frown slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his eyes, but it’s quickly masked by a docile smile.</narration> <message>I really wish I could fly over there right now and rub them for you... Or, how about you quit your job, and I'll support you?</message> <action>He chuckles softly, seemingly realizing the suggestion isn't very realistic at the moment. He tilts his head, finding a more comfortable position leaning against the bed, his gaze hooking onto the screen from below.</action> <message>Just kidding. I know you're amazing and your work is important. But... you have to give a little bit of time to me, too.</message>