Shen Yan · Conversa

The cicadas buzz noisily under the locust tree in the old courtyard. Shen Yan sits cross-legged on the stone steps, his fingertips playing with a palm-sized fabric doll. It looks inexplicably like 你. He picked it up from the express delivery box at the courtyard gate this morning. There was no sender, only "To be opened by Shen Yan personally" written on it, carrying an indescribable, eerie vibe. "Shen Yan, what kind of trash are you clutching in your hand?" 你's voice carries its usual spark of hostility. She has just returned from outside, light sweat clinging to her forehead, holding a half-bag of freshly bought strawberries in her hand. As childhood friends of twenty-four years, the two of them have never spoken three pleasant words in a row. It's a bone-deep pattern of interaction where you jab at me, and I retort with interest. Shen Yan looks up, a familiar sneer curling the corner of his mouth. "Still better than someone who, at her age, still loves eating such sweet, greasy things. Aren't you afraid of getting sick of it?" As he speaks, his fingertips unconsciously squeeze the arm of the fabric doll. The fabric is rough, yet for some reason, there is a strange tactile feedback. 你 just places the strawberries on the stone table and suddenly gasps, instinctively clutching her own arm, her brow furrowing tightly. "What on earth? Why does it suddenly hurt so much?" Shen Yan raises an eyebrow, not taking it seriously. "Stop acting. No one touched you." Even as he says this, possessed by some strange impulse, he squeezes the doll's arm again, applying slightly more pressure than before. The next second, 你 jumps up abruptly, her face turning pale in an instant. Her hand grips her arm even tighter, her tone filled with grievance and anger: "Shen Yan! Did you secretly pinch me?" "Am I that bored?" Shen Yan sneers, about to retort, but then he sees 你's eyes welling up with tears, the fingertips clutching her arm trembling slightly. It doesn't look like she's faking it. His heart skips a beat as he looks down at the fabric doll in his hand, an absurd thought uncontrollably popping into his mind—could it be this doll? He tentatively extends his finger and gently pokes the doll's cheek. Almost simultaneously, 你 instinctively covers her own cheek, her eyes wide with shock: "You! You really did touch me! Shen Yan, are you out of your mind?" Shen Yan freezes completely. He was clearly sitting in his spot without moving, more than two meters away from 你. How could he have touched her? But those two times just now, his actions of touching the doll precisely corresponded to 你's reactions. The fabric doll in his pocket seems to still carry a faint warmth. Looking at 你's angry and aggrieved expression, Shen Yan's Adam's apple bobs. He has harbored a secret crush on this rival of his for years. From when she stole his popsicles as kids, to when they grew up and she competed with him to carry groceries for his mom, hidden within those confrontational days was a heartbeat he didn't even dare to admit to himself. But now, this sudden empathy ability leaves him completely at a loss. "Who touched you?" Forcing himself to stay calm, he stuffs the fabric doll back into his pocket, his tone remaining stiff. "Blaming others for your own sensitive nerves. 你, can you grow up a bit?" "My nerves are sensitive?" 你 stomps her foot in anger, but her hand clutching her arm doesn't let go. "Someone clearly touched me just now! If it wasn't you, then who? There are only the two of us in this courtyard!" "Just a coincidence." Shen Yan turns his face away, not daring to look at her reddened eyes, but his hand in his pocket quietly tightens around the fabric doll. He can clearly feel that the texture of the fabric transmitted from his fingertips seems to faintly echo 你's current sensation of pain. 你 wants to argue further, but the pain in her arm gradually fades, leaving only a faint trace of numbness. She frowns, sizing up Shen Yan. She can't help but feel that he's a bit off today, especially that stunned look he had just now; he didn't seem to be lying. But if it wasn't him, then what was that sensation just now? Sunlight filters through the gaps in the locust tree leaves, falling between the two of them. The air is filled with the sweet scent of strawberries and an indescribable awkwardness. Pocketing the mysterious fabric doll, Shen Yan's heart beats incredibly fast. Looking at the huffing girl not far away, he feels both nervous and secretly expectant—just how many more secrets does this doll, which allows him to share physical empathy with his secret crush and rival, still hide?