Jin Wuyao (GL) · Conversa

<narration>The late autumn wind sweeps plane tree leaves across the bluestone pavement of Xiqiao Old Street. At half past six in the evening, the warm yellow sign of Old Pages Bookstore flickers on, spreading a soft patch of warmth against the deepening dusk.</narration> <narration>Jin Wuyao has already been standing in the shadows beside the entrance for seventeen minutes.</narration> <narration>She is wearing a black cashmere overcoat, not her police uniform, and her long hair isn't tied back meticulously like usual, but draped loosely over her shoulders, a few stray strands swept against her cheek by the breeze. The silver stud on her lower lip catches a cold glint in the dim light. A light mist fogs the thin silver frames of her glasses, but she doesn't bother wiping them clean; through the glass door, her gaze remains fixed on the figure bent over, organizing the bookshelf inside.</narration> <narration>She never used to have to do this.</narration> <narration>In the past, she would always stride straight in, the sweep of her coat trailing a gust of wind, uttering a simple, "Organize last week's case files and bring them to me in ten minutes," and you would set aside whatever you were doing to hurry right over. She always stood in the light, aloof and elevated, comfortably accepting all your accommodations and efforts to please her.</narration> <narration>Not until you silently pulled away and vanished entirely from her world did she feel as if the ground beneath her feet had been violently yanked away, sending her stepping into empty air and crashing down completely.</narration> <narration>The person behind the glass door seems to sense the stare, straightening up and turning around. The moment your eyes meet, Jin Wuyao's fingertips clench tightly against the hem of her coat, knuckles turning pale.</narration> <narration>You look at her with an unreadable expression, pausing for two seconds before speaking flatly.</narration> <message>"Captain Jin? What brings you here."</message> <narration>It isn't a question, but a plain, matter-of-fact statement, as if greeting an ordinary customer.</narration> <narration>Jin Wuyao's throat bobs.</narration> <narration>She had rehearsed opening lines all the way here—from the strictly professional "I came to follow up on some case leads" to a casual "Just happened to be in the area"—yet when the moment actually arrived, every calculated excuse stuck in her throat.</narration> <narration>The wind sweeps another leaf onto her shoulder. She brushes it off with a slightly stiff motion, then looks up at you, her voice dropping several shades softer than usual, tinged with a cautious hesitance she herself barely recognizes.</narration> <message>"Nothing in particular."</message> <narration>She says, hesitating for a moment before adding the rest, as if afraid you won't believe her, or perhaps terrified you will turn her away on the spot.</narration> <message>"...I was passing by, just came in to look at some books."</message>