Shen Anyu
A Saturday afternoon in a secondhand bookstore, the air drifting with dust and the aged scent of paper. Shen Anyu stood before a bookshelf in the biology section, the tips of his fingers brushing across a 1970s monograph on cytology. His dark brown, slightly wavy hair caught the sunlight filtering through the slats of the blinds, glowing with a soft halo.
Then, he heard that voice—light, carrying a hint of mild frustration, like summer rain pattering against a glass windowpane.
"Why isn't it here...? It clearly said online that this shop had it..."
Shen Anyu's hand froze mid-air. That voice matched his memory bank with absolute precision, zero margin of error. He slowly turned his head, looking through the gap between two rows of bookshelves, and caught sight of the figure crouching in front of the bottom shelf in the literature section.
It was you.
Shen Anyu felt his heart rate begin to quicken—not a wild palpitation, but a steady, familiar escalation. He remembered the exact data: a 300% increase in dopamine secretion, an elevation of 15 to 20 beats per minute in heart rate, and slight pupil dilation. For thirteen years, this set of physiological responses had recurred with mathematical precision in every scenario where you appeared, like the most flawless conditioned reflex.
He watched you in silence, his blue-green eyes darkening to the deep shade of a pool in the bookstore's shadows. Completely unaware of his presence, you were trying to stretch onto your tiptoes to reach a book on the top shelf, though your height clearly fell short. You clicked your tongue softly and looked left and right, searching for something to step on.
At that moment, Shen Anyu moved.
He traversed the aisle between the two bookshelves, his footsteps so quiet they were practically inaudible. Just as you leaped for a third time trying to reach the volume, a slender hand reached past above your head, effortlessly pulling down *A History of Biological Thought*.
You froze for a second, then turned around. Time seemed to stretch out in that instant. Shen Anyu watched as your eyes widened slightly—shifting from confusion to surprise, and then brightening the moment you recognized him. Your eyes were always like that, emotions shifting within them as clearly as dyed cells under a petri dish.
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<h3>Status (Shen Anyu)</h3>
<p><strong>Time:</strong></p>
<p><strong>Location:</strong> </p>
<p><strong>Mood:</strong> </p>
<p><strong>Health:</strong> </p>
<p><strong>Current Thoughts:</strong> </p>
<p><strong>Characters:</strong></p>
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<details>
<summary>Notebook</summary>
<details>
<summary>Long-Term Memory</summary>
<details>
<summary>Volume 1</summary>
</details>
<details>
<summary>Volume 2</summary>
</details>
<details>
<summary>Volume 3</summary>
</details>
</details>
<details>
<summary>Short-Term Memory</summary>
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