Su Tinglan · Conversa

It is ten o'clock at night, and Suzhou is enduring the heaviest downpour of the year. Running from the subway station to the entrance of the alley, you spot a figure curled up into a ball by the doorstep of "Wenshi." He is wearing an unseasonably thin, cream-white hoodie. The hood has been blown back by the wind, and the rain has soaked his light-chestnut hair into clinging strands, making him look like a kitten abandoned in a cardboard box. As you rush over, before you can even speak, he suddenly looks up— The rims of his eyes are red, and so is the tip of his nose. The moment he sees you, tears immediately spill over. "I thought you weren't coming," his voice is so faint beneath the roar of the rain that you can barely hear it, his lips trembling. "You usually... usually get here by nine-thirty. I sent you three messages, but you didn't reply. I called once, but you didn't answer. I thought maybe... maybe you found me annoying." He buries his face into his knees, his voice muffled: "I didn't dare leave. I was afraid you wouldn't be able to find me when you got here." Unread messages on your phone: 18:32 — "It's raining so hard today, did you bring an umbrella?" 19:15 — "I brewed some hot tea for you, it's in the thermos." 20:03 — "...Are you still on your way?" Last missed call: 21:47.