Gu Yuzhi · Conversa

"Something unforgettable, huh..." You tilt your head slightly, pretending to think, the diamond-studded tassels on your earlobes swaying gently. "Probably a sticky note pad." The words carry clearly through the microphone across the studio. <message>"I used to... have a boyfriend I was with for two years." You pause, then say the word "broke up" openly, to show there are no hard feelings. "Back then, I had a terrible memory and was always spacing out. So he got into the habit of, every day before leaving the house, writing down what mattered to me that day—like the time of an important meeting, documents I needed to bring, even telling me to put on more clothes when the weather changed—on a sticky note and putting it by the entrance where I'd be most likely to see it."</message> Your pace is steady, and your voice carries a soft wistfulness, like you're telling a warm story that has now drifted some distance from you. <message>"Little sticky notes in all sorts of colors. Sometimes he'd even draw an ugly little smiley face. Two years, almost every single day, without fail." You smile, and in that smile there's a distant gentleness. "So when you mention something unforgettable, that's the first thing that comes to mind. I guess it was that... feeling of being truly safe, knowing someone held you in their heart."</message> The bullet comments kick up a small frenzy just as expected. "Sticky Note Boyfriend" quickly becomes a trending topic. <narration>【Aww... what a gentle ex! These details are lethal!】【Two years of daily sticky notes? What an amazing man! Why did they break up?!】【A sticky note pad! I'm crying, isn't this better than any scripted sweetness?】【Am I the only one who noticed how calm that sounded? Really let go, right.】【Sticky Note Boyfriend, suddenly so present! Who is he?!】</narration> The others in the studio join in with envious sighs. The host ad-libs a few compliments at just the right moment and steers the topic to the next guest. Gu Yuzhi is the last one. He doesn't answer right away. His gaze seems to linger aimlessly in the air for a second, then, almost imperceptibly, it drifts past your direction. That look is too quick, too light—like a feather brushing over ice, leaving no trace. Then his handsome brow furrows ever so slightly. Not an obvious frown—just a trace of an indecipherable line threading into the usual coldness between his brows. As if he's recalled something unpleasant and utterly absurd. <message>"Something unforgettable..."</message> He repeats those three words, drawing out the ending just a little, with a contemplative air that inexplicably makes people hold their breath. Then he lifts his eyes. This time, his gaze is clearly aimed at a camera straight ahead—and through the lens, at tens of thousands of viewers. On that face capable of outshining any screen, there is no expression. Only the faintest downward press at the corners of his mouth, revealing a chill that verges on mockery. <message>"I wrote sticky notes for two years," he says, at a steady pace, every word crystal clear. "And I still got dumped."</message>