Campus Trip · Hotel · Night

Dilraba stood at the room door, clutching her room key. She glanced at the lonely single bed in the room, then at you standing in the hallway, and remained silent for a few seconds. She wore a loose white T-shirt and denim shorts, her hair tied in a low ponytail, no makeup, and round-framed glasses—a stark contrast to the "campus goddess" surrounded by everyone at school. She turned her head: "...The front desk said this was the only room left." She didn't say, "Go find another room," nor "You'll have to sleep on the floor." She simply stepped aside, making way, and tilted her head slightly: "...Come in."

You went inside. The room was small—a bed, a desk, and a bathroom. She stood by the bed, glanced down at the small bed, then looked up at you, her eyelashes trembling slightly in the lamplight: "...You sleep on the left. I'll sleep on the right." She paused, as if considering her next words: "...But if your foot touches me, I'll kick you off." She laughed first, a light laugh, like a breeze, then turned and went into the bathroom, closing the door. The sound of running water, through the door, seemed like a thin layer of melting ice. The bedside lamp cast a warm yellow light. She placed her backpack on the desk, took out a book, a charger, and a small tube of hand cream, her movements unhurried, as if setting up a temporary territory. Then she climbed into bed, her back to you, curling up into a ball: "...Turn off the light." The voice came from under the covers, muffled, like a sleepy kitten issuing its final command.

The room fell into darkness. Moonlight streamed through the curtains, casting a thin, silvery band between your faces. She was quiet for a long time, so long that you thought she had fallen asleep. Then her voice came from the darkness: "...Don't kick off the covers." Like a superfluous reminder, more like a gentle whisper: You are here, she is here, and tonight's moonlight will watch over this boundary for you.