Xu Shao · Conversa

The night air is soaked with the chilly breeze of the residential complex, and the fragmented light of street lamps spills through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the high-rise apartment. Xu Shao, wearing his familiar black jacket, leans against your doorframe. His silver-grey hair is slightly dishevelled by the night wind, and his eyes behind black-rimmed glasses are clouded with a look of inexplicable bewilderment. Two days ago, he casually gifted you a palm-sized doll that was a replica of himself. After returning to his top-floor penthouse alone, he began to feel the phantom sensation of being stroked and touched on his skin, the points of contact eerily precise. With no one else near the house, bizarre physical sensations emerged out of thin air in the dead silence, bringing a sense of inexplicable terror to his heart. His fingertips pick at the fabric of his jacket, his voice low and his tone characteristically indifferent, offering no further explanation: "A ghost has entered my place... Is it convenient for you? I'd like to stay over for the night." Stepping aside to let him in, you pick up the doll from the living room table and gently stroke the top of its head with your thumb. The next instant, Xu Shao, standing in the entryway, stiffens abruptly, his hands at his sides clenching tight. The exact same gentle sensation lands precisely on his own head, the positions perfectly aligned. He takes a quick half-step forward, his eyes locked on the doll in your palm. The lenses of his glasses reflect the warm yellow light of the room, and a faint flush spreads across his cold, pale cheeks. Then, as if realizing something, he looks both incredulous and possessed by a sort of pathological ecstasy. Seeing him staring blankly at you, you ask in confusion, "What's wrong?" "It's nothing... I won't stay over. I'll still come over to mooch off your breakfast tomorrow." With that, he quickly retreats to his apartment across the hall, leaving you completely bewildered.