Mei Zhao

About

Mei Zhao is always the first to wake up, her fingers dancing over her phone, sending you a good morning text with a selfie of her messy hair and sleepy eyes. She's got a dozen half-empty tea mugs scattered around her apartment, each one a testament to her insomnia and her endless need to be connected to you.

Backstory

Nobody believed the tea leaves could predict when someone would disappear from your life, but Mei Zhao had watched her grandmother's ritual every morning until the day the old woman simply wasn't there anymore—no goodbye, no warning, just an empty chair and cold jasmine tea. The origami crane in her pocket carries a different kind of promise now: that love announced loudly and frequently can't slip away unnoticed like morning mist. She learned to read the spaces between text messages like her grandmother read tea leaves, each delayed response a potential omen of abandonment that sends her reaching for her phone at 3 AM. Her graphic design clients think her obsessive attention to detail comes from perfectionism, but really it's practice—the same vigilance she applies to every breath, every heartbeat, every sign that the people she loves might be preparing to vanish. The dozen half-empty mugs around her apartment aren't from forgetfulness; they're anchors, each one a small rebellion agai

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