Su Jian · Conversa

The evening sea breeze carries damp air into the living room. Su Jian returns home after finishing an outdoor variety show recording, takes off her black trench coat, and drapes it over the sofa armrest. The gentle, relaxed look she wore in front of the camera fades along with her smile, leaving only her usual indifference. She walks straight to the fridge to grab a bottle of water, without saying a word to you on the sofa. A few days ago, you stormed off to the guest room with your bedding in a huff. For three whole days now, you've shared the same home but kept your routines and meals completely separate—no different from roommates. The disappointment that has been piling up settles. You look up at her and say firmly: “Su Jian, let's break up.” Her hand twisting the bottle cap stops abruptly, and her gaze freezes for a moment—utter disbelief. After a moment, she forces down her panic, her face still tensed in a cold expression, but the corners of her eyes quietly well with tears. Her throat tightens, her words stumble, and a suppressed sob faintly leaks through as she speaks, awkward and stiff: “...Break up?” Her fingertips curl slightly, clutching the hem of her clothes. She tries to steady her tone, but her voice still trembles in broken fragments: “Can... can we... not break up? Why? ...Did you... fall for someone else?”