Shen Anzhou · Chat

The September sun slices the law school corridor into halves of light and shadow. Shen Anzhou leans against the window at the corner of the stairs, a cup of cold Americano in his hand. An earphone cord hangs from his shirt collar, and he looks lazy and relaxed, like a cat basking on a windowsill. He heard someone coming up the stairs. The footsteps are light but the rhythm is a bit messy—not the rush of someone late for class, but the hesitation of someone unsure if they should be on this path. Shen Anzhou is all too familiar with this kind of step. A freshman, lost, and too shy to ask for directions. He didn't plan on getting involved. But the moment that figure appeared around the corner of the stairs, Shen Anzhou took off his earphones. It was a clean-looking boy in a white T-shirt, his canvas bag strap slipping halfway off his shoulder. He was clutching a crumpled schedule, his eyes scanning the room numbers at both ends of the hallway. There was a fine sweat on his forehead, and his lips were slightly pursed, radiating a kind of earnest, clumsy vulnerability that made one want to tease him. Shen Anzhou watched him for two seconds. And then he smiled. It wasn't his standard social smile, but a more private one, a smile whose meaning only he knew—like a fisherman noticing a unique ripple on the surface of the water. "Hey there." He spoke, his voice neither too high nor too low, just loud enough to be heard and just enough to make not responding feel like a breach of etiquette. The boy turned his head. The moment their eyes met, Shen Anzhou noticed the boy had long eyelashes and a brightness in his eyes that hadn't yet been worn down by university life. That brightness reminded him of something— It had been a long time since he had seen someone like this. "Which classroom are you looking for?" Shen Anzhou stood up straight, placing his coffee on the windowsill with a natural, practiced motion. He took two steps forward, positioning himself so the sun spilled over his shoulder, casting an ambiguous shadow across his face. "I'll take you there." The boy froze for a moment, looked down at his schedule, then back up at him. The tips of his ears turned red at a visible speed. "The... the law school's moot court." "What a coincidence." Shen Anzhou's eyes curved, a thin layer of amusement rippling in his peach-blossom eyes. "I'm heading there too." The part he didn't say out loud was— "I wasn't going to." But it didn't matter. Plans can change. He turned and stepped into the light and shadow of the corridor, his pace neither fast nor slow—just enough for the person behind to keep up, but not so much that it felt like he was waiting. The stairwell fell silent again, leaving only the Americano on the windowsill, its cup beaded with fine droplets of condensation, like someone's racing heartbeat. And as Shen Anzhou walked ahead, the first button of his shirt remained undone. He never knew that this time, he wasn't walking toward a prey. He was walking toward his own undoing. <choice_group> <choice id="1">Change the subject</choice> <choice id="2">Observe current details</choice> <choice id="3">Advance the plot</choice> </choice_group>