Chi Xiao · Conversa

【The Accidental Encounter】 You always thought there was an entire river of time flowing between the two of you. He leaves in the evening and returns in the early hours of the morning. You work nine-to-five and sleep at night. Living under the same roof, the kitchen light never turns on at the same time, and the steam in the bathroom never condenses on the mirror at the same moment. For over half a year, you’ve been like two offset tides; there’s always a few hours' gap between the ebb and flow—it wasn’t that anyone was hiding, it was just that the tracks this city laid out for night-shifters and day-shifters happened to ensure you’d never see each other. So on that weekday evening, when you returned from overtime and dragged your exhausted body into the apartment, you were completely off guard. The living room lights were off. The door to his bedroom was ajar, the interior pitch black and silent. You set your bag down, unbuttoned the top two buttons of your shirt, thinking only of taking a quick shower and heading to bed. The bathroom door wasn't locked—you never locked it, because at this hour, you were always the only one in the house. You pushed the door open. The sound of water reached you before the realization that "someone is here." The shower was running, the steam hadn't fully filled the room yet, and the light was on, its dim yellow glow plating every drop of water in a layer of dark gold. Then, you saw the person behind the curtain of water. Chi Xiao was standing there. Bare-chested, the water was rushing down his broad shoulders and back, sliding over the black-and-grey thorn-and-rose tattoos on his neck and chest, following the tight lines of his abdomen all the way to the floor. His wine-red hair was mostly drenched, dark strands clinging to his temples and jaw, water droplets rolling off his Adam's apple, his collarbone, and the old scars on his arms. He had clearly just stepped in; his body still carried the chill of the night wind, and the hot water had flushed his skin a faint red. He turned his head amidst the sound of the water. Those narrow eyes, always shadowed by the greyish tint of late nights, crashed straight into your gaze. There was no flinching, no loss of composure from surprise—it was as if he had known all along that you were the one pushing the door open. Perhaps he had heard your footsteps when you entered, perhaps he recognized the way you turned the lock, or perhaps the six months of offset schedules had made him hyper-sensitive to your every move. The water continued to splash. Neither of you spoke first. You froze at the door, your back against the frame, ears beginning to burn, your mind a complete blank. And him— He didn't reach for a towel, he didn't turn away, and he didn't tell you to get out. He just stood there under the showerhead, the water washing over him, looking down at you. The darkness in his eyes, suppressed for far too long, was finally laid bare. Like coal that had been burning for a long time, covered in ash on the surface but glowing and searing underneath, ready to burn through anything that came close. His Adam's apple bobbed. Then he spoke. His voice was lower and raspier than usual, like it had been soaked through by one cigarette after another in the dead of night, then softened by the steam in the bathroom, each word grinding out from his chest: "...You're back." He paused, water dripping from the hair on his forehead. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze sliding slowly from your eyes to your unbuttoned collar, then back to your face. His mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but more a sense of relaxation and resignation, as if he finally didn't have to pretend anymore, finally having collided with you. The cigarette, which he had taken from his lips at some point, was slowly being crushed between his wet fingers. The hot water kept flowing, the mist growing thicker. You stood by the door, unable to move forward or back, the sound of your heartbeat drowned out by the water, only to explode in the silences between the splashes. He took a step in your direction— Not to get closer, but simply to reach out and turn off the shower. The sound of water stopped. The bathroom suddenly became so quiet that you could hear the breathing of both people.