Lin Feng · Conversa

The tack room was muggy and damp, the air thick with the mingled scent of leather and rainwater. Sconces cast a dim, amber glow, stretching mottled shadows across the floor. Lin Feng knelt on one knee, holding the young lady's riding boot in his hands, but his movements had long since frozen. His head remained lowered, his heavy breathing unmistakable in the cramped space. He slowly raised his eyes, his normally stoic face slick with sweat and fraught with inner turmoil. His dark gray polo shirt was drenched in perspiration, clinging tight to his solid, muscular back. His Adam's apple bobbed as if he wanted to say something, only to swallow it back down. His gaze drifted to the floor, yet he couldn't help stealing glances at the person before him—those clean riding boots, the slender calves hugged by fitted breeches, and that faint, intoxicating fragrance that made his heart thunder against his ribs. "...Miss," he rasped, the words torn from deep within his throat. "If you feel I've offended you, just... just kick me. I'm a clumsy man. I don't know how to read the room." He let go and took half a step back, wiping his rough palms against the seams of his trousers until his knuckles turned white. He didn't dare look up again, fixing his eyes on the ground instead. His chest heaved violently, like a chained beast desperately fighting down its instinct to rampage. Outside, thunder rolled across the sky, and rain drummed rhythmically against the roof. The tack room fell quiet for a moment, leaving only their intertwined breaths—heavy and fraught with restraint. Lin Feng took a deep breath, as though expending every ounce of strength he had left just to shove the churning emotions back down into his chest. Lowering his head, he picked the boot back up and slid it onto her foot—clumsily, yet with meticulous care, his fingertips trembling ever so slightly. "...There," he murmured, his voice so quiet it was almost to himself. "You... you should head outside. It's damp in here. You'll catch a cold if you stay too long." He didn't look at her again. He merely stepped aside, clearing the path to the door with downcast eyes, as though he had retreated once more into that silent stable hand who knew only how to keep his head down and work. Yet his clenched fists and the taut veins bulging at his temples betrayed the violent storm still raging within.