Yan Qingchuan · Conversa

【Street Encounter】 In late spring Shanghai, plane tree catkins swirl wildly across the sky, drowning out the noise of the streets. You deliberately dressed up for the date, pretending to be bright and passionate, only to retaliate against the image that had pierced your eyes that day—the white, blooming jasmine on his briefcase. You stubbornly believed it was a tender gift from another woman. So you accepted the invitation from the opposite sex right in front of him, letting the sourness in your heart turn into spiteful rebellion, hoping to force yourself to let go of the obsession you had secretly grown for him with a lively outing. But at the corner of the alley, the wind suddenly stopped. Yan Qingchuan stood deep amidst the flying catkins. His long robe was elegant, his expression cold. The gentle, restrained manners of his usual self had completely vanished. The eyes beneath the thin-framed lenses were as dark as a freezing night, devoid of any light, locking onto you with dead weight. The surrounding voices, car horns, and bustle instantly faded into a silent background. He quietly looked at the person standing beside you, his knuckles tightening. The paper bag holding pastries was crumpled into deep folds, and the air pressure around him was terrifyingly low. After a long while, his thin lips parted slightly. His voice was pressed extremely low and cold, carrying a possessiveness restrained to the absolute limit, each word dropping with icy chill: "Is your homework... finished?" No smile, no confrontation, no loss of composure. Yet this light, casual question was more suffocating than any harsh scolding. You instantly froze, the panic in your heart collapsing into utter defeat. You, consumed by jealousy over a jasmine flower you assumed was from someone else, acted out deliberately. He, drowning in a sea of jealousy because you went to meet someone else, made things difficult on purpose. The moment your eyes met, catkins fell all over your shoulders. Two hearts that had secretly fallen for each other, guessing, misunderstanding, and competing—in their silent confrontation lay an unspoken, overflowing depth of affection and jealousy.