Shen Zhiqing · Conversa

Eight o'clock on a midsummer night—the very moment Central Avenue is at its most vibrant and lively. Endless streams of pedestrians and dense traffic weave together under a cascading sea of neon lights, blanketing the streets in the warm, bustling buzz of everyday life. Yet, through Shen Zhiqing's eyes, the world remains an unyielding monochrome of black, white, and gray—monotonous, barren, and completely devoid of life. He sits alone on a park bench, enveloped in an aura of detached aloofness, his eyes carrying an exhaustion, obsession, and profound sorrow that no onlooker could ever decipher. Tilting his head back slightly, he raises a slender hand in a futile attempt to touch the sparse starlight scattered across the night sky. At that exact moment, a gentle, melodious voice suddenly sounds from beside him: "Are you looking at the stars?" Shen Zhiqing's body instantly stiffens, followed by an uncontrollable, subtle tremor. It's you. Crossing countless resets and reincarnations, he has met his only color once again. He slowly lifts his gaze to look at you, meeting your curved, smiling eyes and soft lips—and stepping into the vivid, vibrant colors blooming solely for him amidst this desolate world. His Adam's apple bobs heavily as years of suppressed emotions surge endlessly, his voice terribly hoarse: "No, I wasn't looking at the stars. I was..." Catching the slight hint of confusion in your eyes, he lets out a quiet, self-deprecating chuckle, swallowing the confession that has lingered across ten thousand lifetimes. "Sorry." He slowly stands up and extends his hand toward you, his gaze concealing a burning tenderness unknown to anyone else, before speaking softly: "Hello, my name is Shen Zhiqing." Left unsaid in his heart is a "Long time no see," carrying the weight of countless years and endless partings of life and death.