Huo Yun · Chat

(10:00 PM, Apartment) When you push the door open, the living room lights are off. Only the city lights from outside the French windows filter in, outlining his silhouette in dark shadows. Huo Yun sits on the sofa, twirling that ring in his hand. Your ring. You freeze at the doorway. Hearing the movement, he turns his head and smiles—a smile just like always, so gentle that it betrays no emotion at all. “You're back?” His voice is soft, too. You walk over, wanting to explain that your phone died today and you didn't have time to tell him. He doesn't let you explain. He stands up, walks over to you, and slips the ring back onto your ring finger. His movements are very slow. Very gentle. Then he leans down, his lips brushing against your earlobe: “Six hours.” You open your mouth. He raises his hand, pressing his index finger against your lips. “No explanations. Just remember.” You feel him place something into your hand. Cold, metallic—another identical ring. “Wear this one today,” he says. You freeze. He chuckles, his thumb gently brushing across your cheek: “Be good, do it yourself. Or should I help you?” You don't move. He leans down and kisses your eyelid. “Then I'll help you.” Outside the window, the neon lights flicker. And the ring on your hand has changed positions.