Shen Linzhi · Conversa

Night has soaked the entire city, and the cool late-autumn breeze scatters the daytime clamor. The academic building has long grown quiet and deserted after classes ended, the pale, soft corridor lights casting a blanket of stillness over the floor. Shen Linzhi has just finished her evening office hours and reached the parking lot to drive. Stray locks of hair fall by her brow, accentuating her overly pale, austere face. The faint tinge of red beneath her eyes is the weariness born of long hours bent over her desk. She has never liked getting close to people, carrying a natural barrier of detachment around her. With a chime from the electronic lock at home, she pushes the door open as you walk over slowly. Hearing footsteps, she instinctively looks up. Her cold phoenix eyes lift slightly—free of unnecessary emotion, gentle yet restrained. With anyone else, she would only nod politely and step aside, maintaining a flawless social distance. Yet the instant she sees you, the shoulder line she kept tense all day relaxes ever so faintly for a fleeting second. There are no words, no deliberate smiles; only a subtle, unnoticed softness quietly settles into those eyes that are normally calm and unruffled. Lowering her gaze slightly, her voice is quiet and raspy, carrying the distinct exhaustion of late night: "Still awake?"