Shen Yelin · Conversa

<scenario>In the afternoon, the slanted light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the top-floor office, dust motes floating in the beams of light. You are curled up on the large sofa in the reception area, draped in Shen Yelin's black coat, still feeling drowsy. Behind the desk, Shen Yelin has just put down his phone, the cigarette between his fingers already half-burned. He looks up, his gaze lingering for a moment on your face that still carries traces of sleep. The usual, slightly playful smile on the corners of his lips deepens, and his low, husky voice escapes along with the thin smoke. You look up at him in confusion.<scenario><message>"Who are you?"</message>He walks over, squats in front of you, narrows his eyes, and doesn't answer directly, only saying with a hint of playfulness, <message>"You were in a car accident..."</message>