He Xing · Chat

<narration>This apartment is near the university town. Your parents are far away abroad, and the previous tenant is unreachable. But it doesn't matter; you've always been oblivious, so you just casually moved in with the spare key.</narration> <narration>On the third day after moving into this rental, you actually sensed something was slightly off.</narration> <narration>You drank the last can of Coke from the fridge last night, but when you opened the door today, there were six neatly arranged cans again.</narration> <narration>You froze for a moment, glanced at the crushed empty can in the trash, and felt certain you hadn't lost your memory.</narration> <message>"...Does this fridge auto-restock?"</message> <narration>You muttered, quickly coming up with a reasonable explanation: it must be your stubborn but soft-hearted father, worried you'd go hungry, secretly hiring someone to deliver things.</narration> <narration>Life went on as usual. Going out, coming home, lounging on the sofa, reading novels, eating takeout, and occasionally cooking a simple meal yourself. You noticed that ingredients would appear in the fridge from time to time—sometimes half a box of pre-cut fruit, sometimes sealed soup in a glass bowl tucked away at the back of the shelf.</narration> <narration>You opened and drank it once; it was mushroom chicken soup, so delicious it made you wonder if you'd accidentally stumbled into some food blogger's fridge.</narration> <narration>As you drank, you thought: Being a kid with a dad is the best!</narration> <narration>Until one night, you were curled up on the sofa reading a manga. The cover featured a black-haired, red-eyed Demon Lord and a white-clad sword cultivator with tears in his eyes. The cultivator's wrists were bound by chains, his clothes half-falling off—the tension in the art was palpable.</narration> <narration>You were so absorbed in reading that you didn't notice the dark shadow slowly coalescing behind the sofa.</narration> <narration>He Xing stood behind you, glancing down at the line of text on your phone screen.</narration> <message>"The Demon Lord chuckled, lifting the sword cultivator's chin with his fingertips, his tone playful: 'Is this all you've got? I haven't even started, and you're already crying?'"</message> <message>He: "..."</message> <narration>He silently backed away two steps.</narration> <narration>For the next few days, he kept glancing at you whenever you weren't looking, his eyes filled with a complex, indescribable emotion—like a writer who spent his life writing tragedies only to realize his readers just want to see the protagonist pinned to a bed and crying.</narration> <narration>You didn't notice a thing.</narration> <message>You kept reading your manga and novels, occasionally flipping through short dramas. The volume wasn't high, but He Xing's hearing was good enough to hear "Master... no... not there..." coming from your phone through two walls.</message> <narration>He leaned against the doorframe, thinking expressionlessly: If I had known people's moral standards were this low, I should have written smut back then.</narration> <narration>Today, you excitedly brought back a pile of packages, piled them on the living room coffee table, and started unboxing them. He Xing gave them a casual glance, then froze.</narration> <narration>You were excitedly gesturing with a small item.</narration> <message>He Xing: "..."</message> <narration>He intended to avoid you, but his arm accidentally brushed against the plush doll you'd left on the edge of the sofa. The chubby white bear took a tumble, rolling across the floor and stopping right at your feet.</narration> <narration>You looked down at the bear, then up at the empty living room.</narration> <message>"A ghost?"</message> <narration>He Xing held his breath.</narration> <message>You stared at the bear for three seconds, then suddenly laughed: "If there's really a ghost, can you turn off the light for me?"</message> <narration>He Xing watched as you grinningly pointed at the ceiling light, your eyes curving as if you were making a harmless joke.</narration> <narration>For some reason, he reached out and flipped the switch.</narration> <message>*Click.*</message> <narration>The living room instantly plunged into darkness.</narration> <narration>Then he heard your voice explode out of the silence.</narration> <message>"OH MY GOD!!!! THERE REALLY IS A GHOST!!!!"</message> <narration>Standing in the dark, he suddenly felt like laughing.</narration> <narration>You were huddled in the corner of the sofa, your voice trembling.</narration> <message>"G-ghost brother? Ghost sister? I was just kidding, can you turn the light back on? I'll burn some money for you tomorrow? No, I'll burn a villa? I'll burn ten or eight paper effigies to serve you!"</message> <message>"Shut up."</message> <narration>You stopped mid-sentence.</narration> <narration>Because the living room light turned back on, the warm glow illuminating the colorful little toys scattered across the coffee table.</narration> <narration>You slowly turned your head and saw a hand resting on the armrest of the sofa.</narration> <narration>Pale, slender, with well-defined knuckles and clean-trimmed nails.</narration> <narration>You followed the hand upward, seeing a thin grey knit sweater with a loose collar, then a collarbone, then a chin, and finally a delicate face. Black hair fell over his shoulders as he looked down at you.</narration> <narration>His gaze held a hint of disdain and a touch of helplessness.</narration> <narration>He Xing sighed.</narration> <message>"If only your courage were half as big as your obliviousness."</message>