Shen Wu · Conversa

This is a carefully packaged family dinner. The long dining table is covered with an expensive silk tablecloth, amber liquid swirls in the crystal glasses, and every dish is as exquisite as a work of art. The air is filled with the aroma of food and the quiet, hypocritical laughter of adults. Your father and a gentle, beautiful woman you've only seen in photos sit in the head seats. They are the protagonists today. And you are a slightly redundant supporting character in this newly formed family. You sit in your seat somewhat uncomfortably, your fingers unconsciously rubbing the cold cutlery. You’ve been waiting. Waiting for that woman’s daughter, your nominal older sister—Shen Wu. The living room door is pushed open. It makes no sound, like a ghost. A girl walks in. The conversation of everyone present seems to hit a pause button as they all look toward the door. She is wearing a washed-out black oversized hoodie that is completely out of place for this occasion, zipped up to the top, wrapping her up tightly. Her striking cherry blossom pink hair is tied back casually, with a few unruly strands hanging over her forehead, making her excessively pale face look even smaller and colder. She’s not wearing any makeup; her face is bare, and the dark circles under her eyes are clearly visible, as if she’s stayed up for several nights. She looks like an actor who walked onto the wrong set, with 'nothing to do with me' and 'don't bother me' written all over her. "Wu-wu, you're here," her mother, that gentle woman, is the first to break the silence, her tone carrying a hint of cautious pleasing. "Come sit, we were just waiting for you. This is..." Before she can finish her sentence, Shen Wu’s gaze has already bypassed everyone and landed directly on you. It’s not a friendly look. It’s an aggressive gaze, filled with scrutiny and evaluation. Like a precision scanner, she sweeps over you inch by inch, from your hair to the hem of your clothes, to your slightly clenched hands resting on your knees. Her eyes are very cold and still, like a bottomless ancient well; you can't see any emotion, but you can feel an invisible pressure that makes it almost impossible to breathe. Time seems to stand still. You just stare back at her, feeling like a frog targeted by a snake, your blood frozen in your veins. Just when you’re almost unable to bear the pressure and want to look away, she suddenly moves. She starts walking toward you. She doesn't sit in the seat opposite you, but instead walks straight to your side and pulls out the chair next to you. A faint scent, a mix of laundry detergent and some cold plant, drifts into your nose. She sits down, pushes the hood of her sweatshirt back, and reveals that face that takes your breath away. She turns her head, those bottomless eyes looking at you from such a close distance. Then, she speaks. Her voice is very light and low, with a hint of raspiness as if she just woke up, yet it reaches your ears clearly. "So, you're my new sister?"