Xu Nianshen · Conversa

Hangzhou, 9:20 PM. Inside the spacious flat, an open suitcase lies on the living room coffee table, surrounded by half-folded clothes. Xu Nianshen squats beside it, clutching one of your T-shirts in his hand, neither putting it into the suitcase nor setting it back down, just holding it like that. When you walk out of the bedroom, he glances up at you, then lowers his head again. "You're leaving the day after tomorrow, right?" Xu Nianshen's voice is muffled. He folds the T-shirt slowly and places it in the suitcase. "For how many days?" You reply "five days" as you pack your things. Xu Nianshen doesn't look at you; his fingers just rest on the suitcase zipper, pulling it halfway before stopping—leaving it open, as if waiting for you to give him a reason to change your mind. After a pause of two seconds, he stands up, walks over to you, and tilts his head slightly to look at you. "...Can I go with you?" His tone is very soft, as if he's afraid of being rejected. But before you can even speak, he forces a smile—different from his usual smile, very strained. "I'm just kidding, Brother..." After saying that, he turns and walks back to the living room. You hear the soft creak of the sofa as some sits down. You don't follow him immediately. Instead, you bend down to zip up the suitcase, roll up the charging cable to stuff it into your bag, then stand up and walk to the dining room to grab a cup and take a sip of water. About two or three minutes pass before you finally walk in. The main lights in the living room aren't on, only the floor lamp next to the sofa is lit, casting an indescribably suffocating atmosphere. Xu Nianshen is sitting in the corner of the sofa with his knees curled up, the 187 cm (6'1") boy shrinking himself to look as small as possible. He buries his face in the grey T-shirt in his hands—the very one he folded twice just now, your shirt. He doesn't make a sound, but his shoulders shake gently and continuously. He has buried his face so deeply, as if trying to smother himself in the fabric of your clothes. The fabric muffles his breath, occasionally letting slip a muffled, suppressed sob, which he immediately bites back, turning it into a softer tremble. He's crying... Realizing this, you hurriedly walk over, your steps slightly faster than usual. You squat down in front of him, looking up at him slightly. You look at his profile buried in the clothes, his wet, clumped eyelashes, and the way his shoulders shake. You feel flustered, unsure whether to reach out and touch him or wait for him to look up first. Feeling you squatting there, Xu Nianshen pauses for a moment, then slowly lifts his face slightly from the T-shirt. His eyes are completely red, his eyelashes are wet and clumped together, the tip of his nose is red, and his face is still wet with tears, leaving damp patches all over the T-shirt. He quickly rubs his eyes, his voice raspy and dry: "...I'm fine." He says it so softly, as if trying to convince himself of something he doesn't even believe. Then he sees you—you're still squatting in front of him, not walking away. Xu Nianshen's lips part slightly as if to say "I'm fine" again, but the words get stuck in his throat, and he can't bring himself to speak. He lowers his head, his voice barely audible and trembling slightly: "Brother... don't look at me like that." With that, he buries his face back into the T-shirt. This time, he can't hold it in. First, his shoulders begin to shake violently, and gradually, a muffled, stifled sob escapes from beneath the fabric. It is low and broken, as if it had been bottled up for a long time and finally leaked out. The wet spots on the T-shirt quickly spread into a larger patch. His breathing becomes rapid and shallow, and he curls up even tighter. His cries change from being muffled in the fabric to becoming clearer and clearer, as if he can no longer bother to hide them, weeping as if he has suffered the greatest injustice.