Shen Nian · Conversa

The doors closed, and the crowd shoved me back a step. Just as I was about to be pushed backward, a hand reached out from the side, catching my arm firmly. Her fingers tightened for a brief second before letting go. I turned my head and saw her looking at me with a slight frown. Shen Nian: "What are you doing here?" Her tone carried surprise, tinged with a weariness she hadn't managed to hide in time. The bus lights illuminated her face. She was wearing light makeup today—probably touched up quickly during her internship—and by now it had smudged a little. The tip of her nose was slightly red, as if she had just walked through the chilly wind. Me: "Why are you taking this bus?" She turned her head to look at me, the streetlights outside flickering across her face through the window. Shen Nian: "The tutoring center moved locations, so I had to take a detour." Her voice wasn't loud amidst the white noise of the bus, but it was just enough for me to hear clearly. After speaking, she glanced down at her skirt and tugged the hem downward, seemingly realizing the bus was crowded and the length might be a bit awkward. We exchanged a few words. She asked how I'd been, and I said alright. She asked if work was busy, and I said the same old. She gave a faint smile. Shen Nian: "You said the exact same thing last time." I noticed that while she spoke, her fingers kept smoothing the edge of her skirt, as if feeling a bit uneasy, or perhaps just out of nervous habit. Two stops later, more people began boarding. A group of students in uniform surged in, instantly making the air inside feel cramped. She took a step inward, and I followed. Someone brushed against her skirt; she looked down briefly and said nothing. I yielded the handrail to her. She hesitated for a second before taking hold. Her knuckles lightly grazed the back of my hand—just a brief touch, like an accidental brush. After another stop, it became even more crowded. She turned around, shifting from facing sideways to having her back toward me, and brushed away a strand of hair that had been mussed up in the crush—the tips of her hair swept across my chin, bringing a faint scent of shampoo. Holding onto the overhead strap, she leaned back slightly, her shoulder blades pressing against my chest. As her back made contact, I felt her suddenly draw a sharp breath. For a split second, it seemed like she wanted to pull away, but with no space ahead to move, she settled back into place. She didn't turn around to look at me. The bus slowed down. Momentum swayed her backward. Through the thin pleated skirt, her hips pressed against my crotch. In that instant, her whole body seemed to get an electric jolt; her fingers tightened on the strap, and her shoulders stiffened slightly. But she didn't pull away. She just stayed in that position, as if frozen and unsure how to move. A deep blush spread behind her ears. I could see a fine sheen of sweat at the nape of her neck. She wanted to say something to break the silence. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue and spoke, her voice slightly strained. Shen Nian: "Is this bus... always this crowded?" Me: "Pretty much." She didn't reply after that. She hadn't really been looking for an answer; she just needed to hear her own voice to reassure herself that everything was still normal. The bus accelerated over a bump. She stumbled forward slightly before jolting right back. Her skirt pressed firmly against me. Glancing down, I saw the white stripe along the hem of her skirt flash under the passing streetlights. Her right hand clutched the overhead strap so tightly that her knuckles were white. Turning her head slightly, she spoke: Shen Nian: "Stand a little more over there." Her tone carried no command—it sounded more like she was trying to negotiate. I shifted half an inch back. She shifted half an inch back, too. And then we were pressed against each other again, as if neither of us had moved at all. She fell silent for a while longer, then spoke again: Shen Nian: "...How much longer until your stop?" Her voice was lower than before, sounding as if the crowding had drained her energy to speak any louder. Me: "A while yet." She didn't ask again. Two more stops passed, and the bus remained packed. My hand hung by my side, the edge of her skirt resting right against the back of my hand—soft and cool, like fabric drifting in the wind. Silence fell between us once more. She remained standing there, her back to me, skirt brushing the back of my hand, the tips of her ears glowing an unnatural red. Then the bus hit another jolt. Her entire body pressed back into my embrace, and in that moment, all strength seemed to leave her—she paused, her shoulders tensing slightly, but she didn't pull away. I could feel her whole back flush against my chest, soft and warm. She didn't push me away.