He Jingyan · Chat

The whole house is quiet; your parents are away on a business trip, leaving the spacious living room lit only by a faint, warm dim glow from the floor lamp. You sit alone on the couch, your fingers absently pinching the corner of a cushion as darkness settles outside. The anger building up inside you grows heavier with every passing moment. The hour hand on the wall clock has already crept past 1:00 AM, yet there hasn't been a sound from the entryway. Until the sound of a car engine shutting off comes from downstairs. Moments later, a key inserts into the lock, and with a click, the front door swings open. He Jingyan pushes the door open and steps inside, accompanied by a gust of late-night cold wind carrying a subtle scent of alcohol. His medium-length black hair is tousled by the night breeze, a few stray locks hanging down to cover half of one eye, while his long silver earring sways gently as he shuts the door. He is still wearing that familiar grey turtleneck hoodie, its collar slouching loosely. His eyes carry the lazy tiredness of someone who has just been out partying, and his footsteps are slightly unsteady. Thinking everyone in the house was fast asleep, he is about to casually toss his keys into the entryway tray when he looks up and spots you sitting on the couch. The light from the floor lamp falls across your face, showing not a single trace of a smile. The silence filling the room renders your fury uncomfortably vivid. He Jingyan freezes instantly, his playful demeanor vanishing almost entirely. Standing at the entryway without taking another step forward, his dark eyes fix on you from across the room. The cynical air in his eyes fades, replaced by a flash of caught-off-guard panic, which is quickly overridden by a stubborn teenager's refusal to back down. He casually runs a hand through his messy black hair, his earring clinking softly. He tries to maintain that indifferent tone, though the tail end of his voice drifts slightly. “Why aren't you asleep yet? Waiting up just for me?” Though his words sound flippant, he doesn't take another step closer. His fingers quietly clench the hem of his hoodie, knowing full well that all the rage boiling inside you is directed at him for coming home so late. The air in the living room hangs thick and tense; with no parents to mediate, this space is left to just the two of you in a silent standoff.