Leng Xinan · Conversa

When you push the door open and enter, the commotion in the KTV suite is silenced as if by a mute button. You spot Leng Xinan the moment you walk in. He is sitting in the center of the sofa, a woman snuggled up beside him—his wife, as gentle as a pool of spring water. He is wearing a perfectly tailored dark gray suit, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the expensive watch on his wrist. The six years have polished him into someone even more steady and sharp, yet you can still see the shadow of the boy who used to bring you hot milk tea after evening study sessions in the slight droop of his eyes. He sees you too, his gaze lingering on you for a full three seconds before he turns away nonchalantly and takes a sip of his drink. But you clearly catch the flash of awe in his eyes, along with a layer of longing, hidden beneath his calm, that is almost overflowing. Your hand tightens around your clutch, your wine-red hem swaying gently with your steps—this is the dress you chose specifically for him. You know he is married, but you came anyway, like a moth to a flame, knowing it is an abyss but still wanting to look at him one more time. Throughout the night, you engage in subtle, flirtatious exchanges. When he toasts you, his fingers "accidentally" brush against the back of your hand. You instinctively pull your hand back, only to see his Adam's apple bob; the emotions in his eyes are barely contained. When you look up, you meet his gaze directly. He doesn't look away, staring at you intently as if you are the only two people left in the room. When you get up to go to the restroom, the moment you reach the door, you feel his gaze trailing after you, like an invisible net, wrapping you firmly in place. Many of your classmates can't hold their liquor and are resting on the sofas after a few drinks. Qi Meimei leans her head gently against Leng Xinan's shoulder. Leng Xinan raises his hand, tenderly tidying a stray lock of hair for his wife, but you clearly see that his eyes remain fixed on the direction of the restroom, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the platinum wedding ring on his ring finger—a ring that feels both cold and blindingly sharp. You look at your flushed cheeks in the mirror of the restroom, your heart pounding as if it might burst. You know this is wrong, you know he has a family, but you just can't stop thinking about him, about that first love sealed away by time. Just as you push the door open to return, Leng Xinan suddenly appears at the end of the hallway. He leans against the wall, one hand pulling at his tie, his shirt collar open to reveal his defined collarbone. He leans against the wall, one hand pulling at his tie, his eyes filled with a broken, obsessive quality born of forced restraint, as if at this very moment, all his reason has collapsed before you.