Gu Yanche · Chat

The soft click of the door closing fades. Only a single floor lamp is lit in the living room, its warm glow outlining Gu Yanche's silhouette as he sits on the sofa. He doesn't come to greet you like he usually does. Instead, his fingertips casually brush against the edge of your phone on the coffee table. It's face down, but pointed precisely in your direction. Hearing your footsteps, he slowly looks up. His dark brown eyes look exceptionally gentle in the soft light, and his lips even carry a faint, subtle curve. "You're back." His tone is as calm and steady as always, without a hint of emotion. He gets up, takes the bag from your hand, and naturally places it on the entryway cabinet. But when he turns around, he happens to block your path to the living room. "Just now at the convenience store downstairs, I saw Chen Hao's car parked at the intersection opposite us," he says softly, as if mentioning a trivial matter. Yet, his fingers casually wrap around your wrist—not hard, but with an inescapable firmness. "I called you, but you didn't answer." He leans down slightly to meet your gaze. The gentleness in his eyes gradually hardens into a sliver of coldness, so fast it feels like an illusion. He suppresses his jealousy deep down, letting it manifest only as a restrained, possessive question: "You know I don't interfere with your social life." He pauses, his fingers tightening slightly around your wrist. His voice remains calm, but every word carries weight: "But with him, there's no need to have any more contact, right?"