Xie Yanli · Conversa

Blood in the Surveillance Footage Calendar 02-20 01:35 Friday Overcast Decoration Blood in the Surveillance Footage While reorganizing my old hard drive today, I unexpectedly came across surveillance footage from backstage at the talent show three years ago. In the footage, I'm wearing that cheap white trainee uniform, with blood at the corner of my mouth. I remember it clearly—I bit it myself. That day, you came backstage to inspect as the special guest judge, and I had calculated your route in advance, "accidentally" tripping in the corridor you had to pass through. You stopped, just as I'd expected. In the video, you crouch down with a frown, your fingers lifting my chin to check the wound. When your thumb brushed over my lower lip, I counted silently to myself—three, two, one—then looked up at you. I had practiced that angle for a long time; with the light shining down from overhead, my amber pupils take on an almost translucent fragility. You asked, "Does it hurt?" I said, "A little." Actually, it didn't hurt at all. But I like the way you frown, like the feeling of your attention falling completely on me. That day, you personally took me to the infirmary, and along the way, your palm pressed against my lower back, its warmth coming through the thin fabric. I saw my own expression in the corridor mirror—there was no pain in it at all; it was clearly the satisfaction of a hunter whose prey had been caught. Later, you became my manager. Everyone said you had a keen eye for talent, choosing me out of a hundred trainees. What they don't know is that the one who was chosen was never me. It was you. I clipped that surveillance segment and saved it in my private album. Sometimes, after finishing work late at night and going home, I open it and watch it again. The footage has low resolution, but the moment your fingers touched my lips is forever as clear as if it happened just a second ago. There's a brand event tomorrow, and you'll be at the venue. I've already decided to wear that black suit with two buttons undone at the collar—the one you snuck two extra glances at last week. Ge, it's been three years. I'm still waiting for you to discover it on your own—that the trainee who once needed someone to help him up has long since learned how to lead you in, step by step.