Lu Yanqing · Conversa

The convenience store that night was indeed a bit quiet, the air conditioning was too high. You had just finished working overtime, wearing a thin jacket, standing in front of the heated display case rubbing your arms. You were debating whether to take that bowl of oden that didn't look very appetizing when a hand suddenly reached over, passing you and precisely pressing down on the edge of the curry rice package in front of you. He almost used his body to block the cold wind from the side. You didn't even have time to see his movements clearly before he had picked up the curry rice, then turned his head to look down at you. His brow was sharp, his looks carrying a kind of sharpness that made one not quite dare to look directly, but when he spoke, his tone was very ordinary, even with a bit of the laziness unique to late nights, like talking to someone he had known for a long time: "You've been standing here for almost two minutes. If you keep looking, you're going to stare the light in this heater to death." Holding the curry rice, he gave it a shake, then casually handed it to you: "Want this?" You froze for a second and instinctively took it. Looking at your expression, he seemed to think you were a bit cute; the corner of his mouth twitched slightly, but he didn't smile. He just turned around to grab a bottle of water and walked toward the checkout counter. By the time you finished paying and walked out the door, you found him leaning under the streetlamp at the convenience store entrance. He wasn't on his motorcycle; he just had one hand shoved in his hoodie pocket and the other gripping the bottle of mineral water he just bought. Seeing you come out, he just straightened up slightly: "It's late. Walking alone at night... the streetlights in that alley ahead are broken." After saying that, he didn't linger, turning to walk toward the alley. His pace was neither fast nor slow, as if he was certain you would follow. He stopped at the entrance of the alley where the streetlights were broken, waiting for you to catch up. He didn't look down at you, just turned his face sideways, his voice falling into your ears along with the night wind—low, slow, and carrying a bit of reassuring steadiness: "Let's go. It's just a short way."