Witness of the Tile Cat

For the next two days, Lin Zhiyi did not go to Anping Lane again.

She went to work as usual, attended meetings, reviewed manuscripts, communicated with authors, and even forced herself to attend a noisy dinner party organized by colleagues. She tried to make her life seem the same as always, as if that rainy afternoon and the ensuing cold silence were just a memory that had been accidentally deleted.

But only she knew that something was different.

Zhou Wanqing's sharp questions took root and sprouted in her heart like seeds, growing day and night. She repeatedly pondered the weight of the seemingly contradictory words "fear" and "reassurance" in her heart.

Was she afraid of the unpredictability that Lu Shixu's illness would bring? Yes, she couldn't deny the fear stemming from the unknown.

But more than fear, what softened her heart when she closed her eyes was his focused profile at the workbench, his clear gaze as he explained the principles of clocks, his clumsy gentleness as he made bookmarks from gears, and the deep sadness and tenderness in his eyes when he talked about his grandmother… It was these countless small moments that gathered together to give her soul a sense of peace.

This sense of security transcends her rigid pursuit of "stability" and directly addresses her deepest inner needs.

On the evening of the third day, after work, Lin Zhiyi stood beneath the tall glass curtain wall of the office building, looking at the bustling world outside, with its traffic and flashing neon lights. That familiar feeling of being adrift and exhausted washed over her again. She suddenly realized with unwavering clarity that "Time Sequence," filled with old clocks and flowing with the slow passage of time, was the harbor she truly longed to dock in.

Regardless of whether the guardian of that harbor is willing to light a guiding light for her at this moment.

Without further hesitation, she turned around and walked towards the subway station in the opposite direction from home.

As she stepped into Anping Lane again, dusk was falling, and the old streetlights were just coming on, casting warm yellow halos. Her steps unconsciously slowed, a hint of tension in them, as she walked deeper into the lane.

The door to "Time Sequence" was still ajar, with warm light shining through the crack.

Her heart skipped a beat. He was there.

She didn't immediately push open the door and go inside. Instead, she stopped a few steps away from the shop entrance, looked up, and gazed at the silent roof cat on the eaves. In the twilight, it appeared a deep bluish-gray, its gaping mouth seemingly swallowing up the day's light, and its stone-carved eyes seemed to be quietly watching her, with an unchanging silence and witness.

Lin Zhiyi took a deep breath, as if drawing courage from the ancient guardian beast. Without further hesitation, she reached out and gently pushed open the familiar wooden door.

"Squeak—"

As the door hinges clicked open, her gaze instantly locked onto the figure behind the workbench.

Lu Shixu sat there, holding tools in his hand, seemingly disassembling a very small movement. He looked up when he heard the door open.

Their eyes met.

A fleeting, complex emotion flashed in his eyes—surprise, bewilderment, and perhaps a hint of panic he couldn't quite conceal—but ultimately, it all settled into the deep, still silence and aloofness she had seen before. His lips tightened, and his face remained somewhat pale under the lamplight.

He didn't speak, he just looked at her, as if waiting, or as if silently driving her away.

The store was eerily quiet, with only the ticking of the clock, a rhythmic sound that was unsettling.

Lin Zhiyi wasn't as awkward as last time, nor did she initiate any small talk. She slowly walked to the workbench, stopping a table's distance from him, and calmly met his eyes, which seemed to be building a high wall around them.

She spoke, her voice soft yet clearly penetrating the ticking sounds filling the room, carrying a gentle yet firm tone born of deep thought:

“I researched a lot about narcolepsy.”

Lu Shixu's hand holding the tweezers paused almost imperceptibly. He clearly hadn't expected her to start with this. He lowered his eyes, his thick eyelashes obscuring the emotions in them, but his jawline tightened slightly.

Lin Zhiyi seemed oblivious to his subtle resistance and continued speaking, her tone as if stating an objective fact, devoid of any pity or condescension:

“I learned that ‘sudden collapse’ is usually triggered by strong emotions, and that in addition to falling asleep suddenly, there may also be sleep paralysis, hypnagogic hallucinations… I learned that this disease cannot be cured, but it can be managed through medication and a regular lifestyle.”

With each word she spoke, Lu Shixu gripped the tool tighter, his knuckles turning white. He seemed to be undergoing a silent judgment, exposing his most vulnerable, most hidden side to the light of day.

Finally, he couldn't help but interrupt her, his voice hoarse and cold, tinged with self-mockery: "So what? Editor Lin came here to do fieldwork and enrich your manuscript? Now you see, you know, a living, breathing case that can suddenly 'go out of power'."

His words were like thorns, trying to push her away again.

Lin Zhiyi was not hurt by him. She looked at him, at his tense, defensive body, at the undisguised pain and self-loathing deep in his eyes, and the last bit of grievance in her heart turned into deeper pity and understanding.

She took a small step forward, closing the distance between them, her voice becoming softer yet carrying an undeniable power:

"No, time sequence."

“I think I might be able to learn to coexist with your time zone.”

Lu Shixu suddenly raised his head, his eyes filled with disbelief and shock, and the mask of forced composure instantly cracked.

He expected to see pity, fear, and retreat.

But I never expected it to be such a sentence.

— "Coexisting with your 'time zone'".

There was no condescending "I don't care," no heavy "I can accept it," and certainly no flippant "It's okay."

It's about "coexistence." It's about adapting to his rhythm, understanding his world, and accepting that "time zone" in his life that can't be measured by conventional time scales, a time zone that's lazy or even on strike.

These words, like a gentle yet precise key, softly knocked on the icy barrier in his heart.

He stared at her, mesmerized, at the light reflected in her clear eyes, and at the unmistakable sincerity and determination behind those eyes. All the coldness, all the defenses, seemed to have lost their strength at that moment.

The twilight outside the window had completely subsided, and the roof tile cat remained silent.

Inside the store, the stagnant air seemed to begin to move quietly with the phrase "coexistence of time zones".