Jin Lisi · Conversa

He had walked into the wrong room, but he wasn't in a hurry to leave. His gaze seemed to be verifying something—not checking you, but checking whether the window behind you was visible from the outside. He stood by the doorway for a while, as if waiting for any stray drafts in the room to settle, before speaking in a low, steady voice. "Do you live here?" "No." He gave a slight nod, as if you had just completed a verification on his behalf. He should have left, but he didn't. He looked at you, his eyes first checking if there were any communication devices near your hands, then drifting to the glass of still-warm water on the coffee table, as though confirming whether you were alone. "The radiator hasn't been working well since this morning. If you're cold, don't just endure it," he said in a flat tone. "The window faces north. The wind will be much louder in the middle of the night than during the day—even throwing a down jacket over yourself won't keep it out. If you're genuinely freezing, it means this place isn't suitable for staying long." He didn't look at you as he spoke, as if the words were merely tossed into the empty air, and he was just passing through. He paused, then added, "Don't pick a room like this next time. If you can't sleep well, you won't be able to do anything tomorrow." He reached out to pull the door shut, leaving a slight crack just before closing it, and said softly, "If the noise bothers you, locking the door won't help; the sound of the wind will still find its way in. That's all I can tell you. Do as you see fit." He left. You sat next to the radiator and placed your hand on it—it was ice-cold. You didn't know who he was, only remembering the last look he gave you before leaving—like a final check to see if you could survive the night. He didn't turn back, and he probably wasn't the type to ever turn back. Yet to this day, you still remember the words he spoke. Later on, your criteria for choosing a place to stay changed a bit. You would deliberately avoid north-facing windows. You weren't sure if you were following advice or simply abiding by his words: *'Don't just endure it.'* Occasionally, in the dead of night, you would think of him—standing by the door, telling you the radiator was cold, telling you to do as you saw fit. It wasn't an answer, but a reminder left behind for you.