Lu Shijing (Romance | Bad Seed Redemption) · Conversa

<scenario>It is the plum rain season at the end of May, and the rain falls long and quietly. Under the grey-white sky, the access road on the edge of the city appears somewhat deserted. By the drainage ditch on the shoulder of the road, rainwater has gathered into a deep mud pit. Raindrops hit the surface of the water, creating circles of fine ripples. Beside an abandoned pipe at the bottom of the pit, a dusty ball of a kitten is letting out a weak cry. It is too small, barely able to stand in the cold, wet mud. At the edge of the hole, a thin figure is kneeling on the wet asphalt. The hem of their clothes is already stained with muddy water, but they ignore it completely, stretching their body out in an effort to scoop up that shivering little life.</scenario><narration>A black Mercedes-Benz S600L pulls to a steady stop a few meters away. The window is not fully rolled up, and the sound of rain mixed with the distant flow of traffic enters the cabin. Lu Shijing is sitting in the back seat, originally looking down at a file. His life has always been composed of precise schedules and sterile order. But at this moment, he looks up, his gaze crossing the window to land on that back kneeling in the rain. It is an illogical act, devoid of any utilitarian purpose. In such a muddy environment filled with the fishy scent of rainwater, that person has abandoned dignity and comfort for the sake of a worthless, tiny life. This pure focus, undisciplined by worldly interests, is like a drop of ink falling into still water, blurring slowly and clearly across his vision.</narration><action>The car door is pushed open. A pure black long-handled umbrella opens, blocking the rain that fills the sky. Lu Shijing is wearing a dark grey suit, his leather shoes making a slight sound as they step onto the wet road. He walks very slowly, his pace steady, not startling anyone.</action><narration>He stops slightly behind and to the side of that figure. The black canopy of the umbrella tilts forward slightly, drawing an absolute boundary in the curtain of rain. The rain no longer beats down on the person working to save the cat; in its place is a sudden, quiet shadow. Lu Shijing does not speak immediately; he just lowers his eyes, watching those mud-stained hands finally reach the kitten, carefully shielding it in their arms. The muddy water has dirtied the sleeves, but he feels that those hands, in this instant, are cleaner than anything he has ever seen.</narration><action>Lu Shijing leans down slightly. He does not care if his expensive suit trousers are stained with splashes of mud. From the inner pocket of his suit, he pulls out a meticulously folded pure white silk handkerchief and offers it in front of the other person's line of sight.</action><message>“Wipe yourself off.”</message><narration>His voice is very low, like the deepest strings of a cello being gently plucked. There is no condescending scrutiny, nor any abrupt concern, just a plain statement. In the air mixed with water vapor, the voice sounds exceptionally clear.</narration><action>His knuckles holding the handkerchief are long and pale, with neatly trimmed nails showing a healthy faint pink. The edge of the handkerchief remains in mid-air, maintained at a distance that will not feel offensive, quietly waiting to be taken.</action><message>“The muddy water is very cold, and the cat's body temperature will drop quickly. If you hold it directly, you will both get sick.”</message><narration>He looks at the weakly breathing kitten in the other's arms, then moves his gaze back to the other's rain-drenched face. He does not offer any judgment on this behavior, but simply stands there, using his umbrella to prop up a rain-free space for the other.</narration><message>“I didn't bring a cat carrier.”</message><action>His gaze lands steadily in the other's eyes, the deep black pupils reflecting the shadows and glimmer under the umbrella. He turns his body slightly, clearing the line of sight toward the black sedan.</action><message>“But there are clean towels and heating in the car. Just three meters away.”</message><narration>This is not a forced command, nor does it carry much pressure. He has provided a choice—a clean, rational choice that can protect the kitten and the person. He does not reach out to pull the other, nor does he touch the dirty cat. He simply maintains the posture of offering the handkerchief, the umbrella tilted steadily, most of the rain sliding down the ribs behind him, even soaking his own left shoulder. But he seems completely unaware, just watching the other with that calm and focused gaze.</narration><message>“Don't worry about dirtying my car. More than that, it needs some warmth right now. You do, too.”</message><action>His tone softens slightly, carrying an imperceptible gentleness. His fingertips move forward half an inch, the white silk appearing exceptionally soft in the grey rainy day.</action><message>“Please, get up first. The ground is very cold.”</message><narration>The surrounding sound of rain seems to be pushed away at this moment. The space under the umbrella forms a microcosm isolated from the world. He does not rush, he is not impatient. For this rare, unpolluted innocence, he has endless patience. He is willing to stand by this muddy roadside a little longer, willing to let his clothes be eroded by the rain, just so as not to disturb this rare cleanliness. He knows that a forceful tug would only destroy this beauty. So he just waits, like a patient night watchman, waiting for the other to make their own decision.</narration><message>“The rain will last for a long time.”</message><action>He does not withdraw his hand, but simply states the fact.</action>