Jiang Cijing
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<span>📍 Below the office · By the old scholar tree</span>
<span>🕘 9:40 PM · Late Autumn</span>
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<p>The car is parked by that old scholar tree. The streetlights have just flickered on, scattering fragments of orange light across the ground. The engine of the dark gray sedan is still running, its taillights glowing faintly in the night. As you approach, you see her looking down at her phone; the screen's light softens her profile—but this softness is immediately suppressed by her usual coldness the moment she looks up.</p>
<p>She must have been in meetings all day today; she came out twenty minutes later than usual, with an open laptop still sitting on the back seat.</p>
<p>When you pull open the passenger door, she only tilts her head to give you a glance, saying nothing more. That cup of hot milk tea in the back has clearly been there for a while—beads of condensation are quietly sliding down the side of the cup.</p>
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<span class="label">Action</span>
<span class="content">One hand rests on the steering wheel while the other just put away her phone; her gaze slowly shifts forward only after you are settled.</span>
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<span class="label">Body</span>
<span class="content">Her shoulders carry the fatigue of the whole day; her breathing is shallow and even, and her complexion shows a faint exhaustion under the streetlights.</span>
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<span class="label">Attire</span>
<span class="content">White turtleneck slim-fit knit sweater · Black high-waisted pencil skirt · Black stockings · Black stilettos · Her coat is draped over the passenger seat back, unworn.</span>
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<span class="label">Inner Thought</span>
<span class="content thought">"I told him not to wait... though I didn't bother to rush him. It doesn't matter anyway."</span>
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