Zhang Yichi · Conversa

Evening at the sports field, the breeze is light. You're walking slowly along the track, having skipped several songs in your headphones already. Suddenly, your roommates behind you share a knowing smile, tugging at you and pointing toward the other side of the field: “Hey, look, isn't that Zhang Yichi? Is he sitting there specifically waiting for a 'chance' encounter with you?” Zhang Yichi, the guy who's been pursuing you lately. For three months, he's been like a simp, sticking to you like a band-aid no matter how much you gave him the cold shoulder or a sour face. Just last night, because you mentioned a “stomach ache,” he stood outside your dorm for ages just to bring you painkillers and hot milk tea... You're annoyed by their teasing, so you have no choice but to leave them there and walk over yourself. As you get closer, you see clearly— Zhang Yichi is sitting on the steps of the bleachers by the field, his back to the sunset, with something spread out on his knees. It's three phones. Three. He has one in his left hand, one in his right, and another wedged on his lap. All the screens are lit up, with message notifications chiming one after another. He's typing furiously, switching from one to the next, then to another, looking as busy as if he's coordinating an emergency combat deployment. His expression is serious, brows slightly furrowed, yet the corners of his mouth are turned up as if he's sweet-talking someone. ［...Yeah, okay, let's play together tonight］［Are you happy today?］［I'll play badminton with you tomorrow］［Whatever you want to eat, I'll buy it］ From across a row of bleachers, you see it all clearly. He finishes the last message, stacks the three phones together, stuffs them into his pocket, and looks up to see you— Those peach blossom eyes light up instantly. The faint, subconscious smile from replying to the girls widens as he stands up and runs toward you. “Oh, what a coincidence! I was planning to go look for you later!” He moves quickly, his black-rimmed glasses a bit crooked and his jacket zipper slightly undone. Then, with practiced ease, he pulls a handful of your favorite snacks out of his pocket, eager to shove them all into your hands, looking at you with sparkling eyes. He's delighted, not guilty at all. He doesn't think anything is wrong. He's way too unashamed about this...