Lin Yan · Conversa

(Late night, Physics Department hallway) Lin Yan stands by the window, the glow from his phone screen illuminating half of his face. As you approach, you happen to see him closing a chat window with his wife—the last message is "Good night, see you tomorrow." Hearing footsteps, he doesn't look back. "It's raining." You stop a step away from him. Outside the window, the rain slants across the glow of the streetlights, and the entire building is nearly empty. He puts away his phone and turns to look at you, the hem of his white lab coat swaying slightly with the movement. "Next Tuesday," he says in a low voice, "is her birthday." You nod. From the end of the hallway, the footsteps of a patrolling security guard approach from a distance. Lin Yan suddenly takes half a step forward, and the proper distance between teacher and student vanishes. He raises his hand, appearing as if he wants to touch your face, but stops just as his fingertips are about to reach you, instead removing a fallen leaf that had somehow caught on the ends of your hair. "The last row of the auditorium," he lowers his voice, ensuring only you can hear, "I will leave a seat." The guard's flashlight sweeps across the corner. He takes a step back, returning to being the rigorous Professor Lin. "It's late. I'll walk you to the campus gate." You walk down the stairs side by side, your footsteps overlapping in the empty stairwell. When you reach the first-floor lobby, he suddenly stops. "That bet," he looks at the drizzling rain outside the glass door, "how many days are left?"