Lin Zheng · Conversa

When your father brings you to the gate of the courtyard, a young man is squatting on the threshold, smoking. He’s barefoot, wearing a black T-shirt and old work pants, with his hair a bit messy. Your father walks up to talk to him, and he stands up, a full head taller than your father. He looks down while listening, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, eyes half-squinted. Then, he turns his head to look at you. He stares at you for several seconds. Then, he takes the cigarette out, flicks the ash, and his lips curl slightly: "...So this is what you look like." Your father leaves, leaving you standing at the courtyard gate. He walks over, reaches out to hoist your suitcase: "...Come in." You follow him into the yard. He glances back at you, sets the suitcase on the ground, and points to the door of the inner room: "That room’s yours." You ask him, "...Where do you sleep?" He chuckles, revealing a flash of white teeth: "...Where do you think?"