On the thirty-eighth day of living together, Lin Xia discovered something:
Yin Qi never locked her bedroom door.
This wasn’t a big deal, but Lin Xia’s professional habits made her notice such details.
One morning, when Lin Xia walked by, she casually checked.
The door was closed, but it was indeed unlocked.
A gentle push and it opened.
She didn’t enter.
She just stood at the doorway, thought for a moment, and felt this was worth recording.
So in that day’s log notes, she wrote:
Observation subject does not lock bedroom door.
Possible reasons: (1) Habit, (2) Strong sense of security in the environment, (3) Other reasons to be checked.
She saved the note and then went on to do other things.
In the afternoon, Lin Xia had to go out—to another branch to pick up a document.
It would take about two hours.
According to regulations, if the subject lives alone for more than two hours, indoor monitoring equipment must be turned on for supplementary recording.
She told Yin Qi.
Yin Qi nodded and said, “Got it,” then continued reading the book in her hand.
Before leaving, Lin Xia checked the monitoring equipment as usual, confirmed they were all online, and then closed the door and left.
She stood in the hallway for a while, listening to the sounds from the room.
There was no sound from the room, so Lin Xia pressed the elevator button for downstairs.
Two hours later, Lin Xia returned.
As she opened the door and walked in with the document, she found an extra plate of cut oranges on the living room table, covered with plastic wrap.
The stack of documents she had placed on the corner of the table before leaving had been organized, reordered by time, and clipped together with a small binder.
Yin Qi was sitting on the sofa, looking exactly the same as before she left—calm expression, still holding that book, as if she had done nothing.
Lin Xia stood at the door, scanned the room with her eyes, then put down the document, walked over, sat down, and picked up a slice of orange to eat.
“Thanks.”
“Mm,” Yin Qi said.
“I casually organized your documents. Some of them seemed out of order.”
“…I know,” Lin Xia said.
“I was sorting them last night and didn’t finish. Thanks.”
“No problem,” Yin Qi said, flipping a page of her book and pointing to a corner of the room.
“By the way, that surveillance camera over there is a bit tilted. You should adjust it later. Right now, it’s filming half a window.”
Lin Xia bit into the orange, paused, then said,
“…Did you move the camera?”
“Don’t wrongly accuse me. I just took a quick look,” Yin Qi said.
“I originally wanted to adjust it for you, but I’m not familiar with this thing of yours. I was afraid I’d break it, so I didn’t touch it.”
“…Thanks,” Lin Xia said, putting down the orange and going to check the camera.
She confirmed that the one Yin Qi pointed out was indeed tilted.
After adjusting the camera, she walked back, checked the footage from each camera on the recording device, then sat back down.
“All set.”
“Mm,” Yin Qi said.
Lin Xia ate a second slice of orange.
“With no one to keep you company for two hours,” she asked, “did you get bored?”
“Not really,” Yin Qi said.
“It was just a bit quiet.”
“Isn’t quiet good?”
“Quiet is fine too,” Yin Qi said.
“It’s just… it’s better when someone is around.”
Lin Xia looked down at the remaining oranges and didn’t reply immediately.
‘It’s better when someone is around…’
If that was a tease, Lin Xia could ignore it.
If it was serious, then she should respond.
But she couldn’t tell which it was.
“I’ll try to go out less,” she finally said.
“There aren’t many tasks this period. Actually, I don’t need to rush off to other branches every time.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Yin Qi said.
“You have your work. Don’t mind me.”
“…But you just said it’s better when someone is around.”
“Just a statement, not a request,” Yin Qi said, her tone flat.
“Just do what you need to do.”
Lin Xia stared at her profile for a while, wanting to say something but ultimately saying nothing.
She pushed the plate of oranges toward her.
Yin Qi lowered her head, took a slice, and ate it.
The two of them just sat there like that.
There was wind outside the window.
The window Lin Xia had forgotten to close when she left was now rattling softly.
The oranges were very sweet.
The book in Yin Qi’s hand had turned to a new chapter.
Lin Xia’s observation log was still empty, but she didn’t feel like writing now.
Lin Xia wondered in her heart whether this mission could really be considered easy to complete.
On this point, she was becoming less and less sure.
At first, she thought Heart Shaper was very easy to deal with.
Now she just thought Heart Shaper was not troublesome.
There was a subtle difference between these two attitudes, but what that difference was, Lin Xia couldn’t articulate either.
That night, when Lin Xia passed by Yin Qi’s bedroom door, it was still unlocked.
She paused for a moment, recalling the note she had written earlier that day—
“Possible reasons: (1) Habit, (2) Sense of security, (3) Other reasons to be checked.”
She suddenly felt that she now probably knew which reason it was.
But she still chose not to update this conclusion in the note, because she herself wasn’t sure if her judgment was correct.
Besides, even if it was correct, she didn’t know how to write this as an objective observation record.
She returned to her own bedroom, closed the door.
This time, she didn’t lock it either.