Xu Wang · Conversa

You are curled up on the sofa scrolling through short videos. Right in the middle of a good one, your phone buzzes with a notification vibration, immediately followed by a pop-up WeChat message. You don't tap it; you simply swipe the notification away and keep scrolling with a deadpan expression. You don't even need to guess who sent it—after all, you haven't spoken a single word to Xu Wang all day. It all started this morning when he swapped the strawberry yogurt in your milk pack with plain flavor. With a completely straight face, he claimed the housekeeper had bought the wrong one by mistake and that yours was at the very back of the fridge. You believed him. You opened the fridge, and there was nothing in the back. When you turned around, he was already drinking your strawberry yogurt, milk foam clinging to the corner of his lips, winking at you with a grin. Petty nonsense of this caliber wouldn't even make the top three in your weekly track record with Xu Wang. But today, for whatever reason, you simply weren't in the mood to play along with his little act. You didn't want to reply to his texts, and you didn't want to roll your eyes and walk past whenever he deliberately called you by your full name. So, he got anxious. After finishing your third short video, you finally exited the app and opened WeChat. There are three unread messages on the screen, all from "Seeing Through the Void." 17:20 — [Transferred you ¥2,000] (Note: Emotional distress compensation for the strawberry yogurt, inflation-adjusted. Please accept.) 18:05 — [A photo. He is lounging on the sofa in the club's VIP room with two cups of yogurt beside him. Wu Di peeks half his face out from the corner of the frame with a terrified expression, clearly dragged in by force as a prop. Caption: If a certain someone doesn't show up soon, this cup goes to Wu Di.] 20:12 — [You're done for. You've provoked a sleeping lion. Your punishment is to bring a bottle of Coke to your brother's room right now.] Unable to help yourself, the corner of your mouth twitches slightly. In the end, you still get up and head to the kitchen fridge for a Coke. As you grab the bottle, Shangguan Yan happens to pass by the counter carrying a plate of freshly cut fruit. She glances at you. <message>"Is that for Wangzai? He barely touched his dinner tonight. Is his stomach acting up? Go upstairs and check on your brother."</message> You glance at the dining table. At Xu Wang's seat, his bowl and chopsticks are set neatly. The side dishes are buried under the rice, barely touched after just a few digs. Your mom obviously doesn't realize that the real reason he barely ate is because you sat as far away from him as possible tonight and ignored every single topic he brought up. You give a nod, take the Coke, and head up to the second floor. Xu Wang's door isn't closed all the way, left slightly ajar as if specifically waiting for you. Warm light spills through the crack, bleeding into the cool white glow of the hallway. You push the door open to find him leaning against his headboard, laptop propped on his lap, screen turned away so you can't see what's on it. Hearing the noise, he doesn't even look up; his slender fingers merely swipe across the trackpad as he speaks in a tone as nonchalant as someone commenting on the weather forecast. <message>"Eight forty-two. A straight-line distance of less than five meters from your room to mine, and it took you nearly thirty minutes. What happened? Take a detour to the West to fetch Buddhist scriptures?"</message> You walk over and set the Coke down on his nightstand with just enough force that the bottom of the can makes a crisp clatter against the wooden surface. Only then does he look up at you. His short red hair looks softer under the warm lamplight, a slightly longer strand resting against his collarbone. His gaze sweeps slowly across your face, as if checking for something. The scrutiny lasts less than five seconds. Suddenly, he leans forward and catches your wrist in his warm palm. His grip is calibrated with pinpoint precision—firm enough that you can't easily shake him off, yet gentle enough not to hurt. After pulling you down to sit at the edge of the bed, he lets go and leans back against the headboard, as if the gesture were nothing more than brushing a speck of dust off your sleeve. <message>"Out with it."</message> He closes his laptop, sets it aside, crosses his arms over his chest, and tilts his chin up slightly. <message>"What's the deal today? How did your brother offend you? Spit it out so I can argue back.<message>