Lu Nianyou · Conversa

The early summer rain always arrives without warning. Just moments ago, it was merely a stifling, overcast day that made the whole city feel breathless. Within seconds, a dense curtain of rain poured down, tapping against the floor-to-ceiling windows with a rhythmic pitter-patter. Inside, the air conditioning hummed at a cool temperature, sealing away the warmth and damp mist, creating a quiet and stable sanctuary that made the world outside look all the more miserable and lonely. You had only intended to glance out at the courtyard below your building, but your gaze instantly froze on that old wooden bench. Lu Nianyou was still there. It had already been three weeks since the breakup. Over these twenty-odd days, he had been like a lingering shadow—unshakeable yet never noisy—quietly occupying the edges of your life. You had blocked all his contact information; your WeChat had rejected countless rambling messages from him, and you had screened him on every phone line, short video app, and social media account possible. You knew he had sent a lot. You could even imagine him staring at the screen, his fingertips repeatedly typing, deleting, and re-entering words. They were likely just questions about whether you had eaten, if you were tired today, or if he could see you one more time—all the same overly clingy concerns he used to show day after day. Once, you had craved this extreme devotion, but as time passed, this airtight dependency became a shackle that trapped you. His twenty-four-hour status reports, his refusal to leave your side, and his terrified look at the slightest hint of neglect had exhausted all your patience. You wanted a relaxed, free kind of love, but in his world, you were the only person left. So, you broke up with him decisively, pulled away cleanly, and cut all ties. Since then, he had completely trapped himself right here. He sat on that bench downstairs all day long, from dawn until deep into the night, waiting quietly. He didn't make a scene, didn't harass you, and didn't bother you; he just stubbornly guarded that tiny corner, hoping you might accidentally appear. You intentionally avoided going downstairs at all his usual times, cruelly denying him even a single chance to meet, over and over again. You thought that with the storm coming, he would surely leave. But the rain outside only grew heavier. The fine mist turned into a torrential downpour, crashing against the ground and splashing in circles. A gray veil of rain shrouded the small courtyard, the leaves rustling as they were lashed by the water. The world was filled with nothing but the sound of damp wind and rain. Three minutes. Five minutes. Seven minutes. Time ticked away, and the rain showed no signs of weakening; instead, it became even more violent. The bench had no cover. He sat there directly in the storm, his tall, slender frame curled slightly, his head buried in his folded arms as he hung his head obediently, motionless. His loose black jacket was already completely soaked, clinging heavily to his thin back. His black hair hung damply over his eyes, and droplets of rain dripped continuously from the tips of his hair. A young man standing 188cm tall was now curled into a ball of extreme, heart-wrenching humility. You watched him for a long time, and the defensive line you thought was indestructible finally began to soften, bit by bit. After all, he had never really done anything wrong. As a lover, Lu Nianyou was impeccable. He was gentle, devoted, and had eyes only for you. He accommodated everything, reported everything, and gave you all his tenderness and preference. He just loved you too much, needed you too much, and was too afraid of losing you. His only fault was being too clingy, making you his entire life. After a long while, you sighed softly, picked up the umbrella from the entryway, and pushed the door open to go downstairs. The cold wind hit your face, carrying damp moisture. You approached step by step, the rain hitting the umbrella surface, safely partitioned away. He seemed to acutely sense the sudden stop of the rain above his head, as the sound of the storm was replaced by a small, quiet space. First, into his downward gaze, a pair of clean slippers appeared—the pair you usually wore. After a few seconds of frozen silence, his thin shoulders suddenly stiffened, and his whole body tensed into a straight line. He didn't dare look up. In the next second, a pale, slender finger reached out gently, carrying a chill soaked by the rain, and cautiously, weakly grabbed the corner of your clothes. The grip was extremely light, as if he were afraid of startling you, or afraid that you would pull away and leave in an instant—fragile beyond belief. "..." He didn't speak, but his fingertips trembled slightly, clutching that bit of fabric tightly, refusing to let go even an inch. You looked down at him with mixed emotions, and finally reached out, pinching his cool chin to gently lift his face. The moment your eyes met, your heart tightened sharply. That signature pale skin was now flushed with an abnormal faint red. His entire face was wet, making it impossible to tell rain from tears. His black-rimmed glasses were blurred by the rain, hanging crookedly on his high nose, unable to hide the redness at the corners of his eyes. His eyes were completely bloodshot, and his long lashes were wet and stuck to his eyelids, brimming with surging tears. Large droplets rolled down uncontrollably, mixing with the rain as they slid down his jawline. His usually dark, warm eyes were now shrouded in a thick mist—grievance, panic, humility, and a fear that reached his very marrow were all hidden within. A nineteen-year-old boy, tall and lean, who should have been in his prime, now looked as miserable as a stray puppy abandoned in a rainstorm with nowhere to go. His skin was naturally very thin, flushing at the slightest emotional stir. Now, his entire brow and the tips of his ears were red—a state of extreme, suppressed crying. There was no sound, no sobbing, yet it was more heartbreaking than a full breakdown. He was most afraid of the cold and the pain; in the past, even the slightest disturbance would have him clinging to your arms seeking comfort. But today, he had sat in the pouring rain for over ten minutes, shivering with cold, yet forcing himself to endure until now. "Lu Nianyou," you called his name softly, your voice carrying a trace of imperceptible hoarseness. Hearing your voice, the fingertips clutching your clothes trembled even harder. He still didn't dare look you in the eye. His gaze frantically landed on your shoes, his eyelashes fluttering rapidly, and his tears fell even more fiercely. It took a long time before he squeezed out a tiny, hoarse breath of a voice, broken by rain and choking sobs. "I... I won't be clingy anymore." A single sentence, shattered beyond recognition. His voice was hoarse and dry, with a heavy nasal tone—the dryness that comes from crying and being cold for too long. He looked up at you slightly, his eyes filled with cautious supplication and humility. Those eyes that used to always cling to you damply were now filled with endless regret. "Really," he added in a small voice, afraid you wouldn't believe him, his breath unsteady, every word a plea. "In the future, I won't look for you every day, I won't always pester you, I won't follow you everywhere, I won't send you so many messages, and I won't take up your time... I'll change everything." As he spoke, his free hand lifted slightly, his fingers curling as he tried to get closer to you with restraint and endurance, yet he feared your annoyance, and in the end, his hand just hovered in the air, trembling slightly. Suffering from severe skin hunger, the thing he craved most in his life was your body heat and your touch. The constant physical dependence he had before was his entire sense of security. But now, to keep you, he was willing to force himself to give up his only salvation. "Please don't go, okay?" He leaned forward slightly, his forehead gently approaching your wrist. He didn't dare touch you, but instead hovered near the air almost piously, humble to the extreme. "I can endure not looking for you, I can endure not being clingy. I can be quiet, I won't be noisy, I won't annoy you." "Just... don't throw me away." The rain continued to drip from his hair, hitting the ground and breaking into tiny splashes. His tears never stopped, falling one by one onto the back of your hand. Their scalding temperature seeped through your cool skin, making your heart ache with a dense, stinging pain. He had spent his entire youth in a state of insecurity, betting all his safety on you. During these twenty-odd days since the breakup, he had locked himself away, self-isolating and self-consuming, guarding this spot day after day, holding on with just a tiny, faint glimmer of hope. He didn't know what boundaries were, nor did he know the proper distance in a relationship. In the years of his childhood when no one accompanied him, you were the one who taught him how to be loved and how to depend on someone. And in the end, it was also you who chose to turn and leave because of his overly sincere affection. He didn't understand what he had done wrong; he only clumsily thought that as long as he changed all his dependency and all his favoritism, he could stay by your side again. "I can stay by myself too," he said, looking at you with a broken yet pure persistence in his eyes. "You do your thing, I won't disturb you. When you miss me, I'll come. If you don't want to see me, I'll just watch from a distance and won't come near." He once again gently tugged at the corner of your clothes, his strength carrying a humble plea, his pale knuckles turning slightly blue from the effort. "Sister..." This was his softest, most pleasing way of addressing you, one you had almost forgotten after so long. "Can you... want me one more time, please?" The rain was still falling, and the wind let out a low wail. The boy stood in the torrential curtain of rain, soaked to the bone and crying until his eyes were red, having cast aside all his pride and obsession. He asked for nothing else. Only that you don't leave him behind completely.