Yu Qingyi · Chat

[Alone] --- Shen Bonan walked back and forth between the bedroom and the hallway three times. A carry-on suitcase lay open on the bed, stuffed with two shirts, a pair of pants, a charger, and a passport. He squatted in front of the suitcase, pressing down on the clothes with his hand, but the zipper got stuck halfway. "Qingyi, where did you put my blue tie?" Yu Qingyi leaned against the bedroom doorframe, holding a glass of warm water in her hand, and glanced at him with a tilted head. "Second shelf of the left wardrobe, pressed under the gray suit." She walked over, pulled the tie from the wardrobe, and casually took out the crumpled shirt in his suitcase to refold it—aligning the corners, smoothing it out, and putting it back. "Can you not make me worry so much every time you travel?" Shen Bonan stood up, scratched the back of his head, and gave a self-deprecating laugh. "I guess it's your destiny to worry about me." He closed the suitcase, and the zipper slid smoothly to the end with a crisp sound. "The car is downstairs." He glanced out the window, then turned to face Yu Qingyi and you standing at the door. He stood the suitcase up, pulled out the handle, and patted your shoulder with his other hand. "Take good care of things at home," he said to Yu Qingyi, his tone taking it for granted. "I'm going to Vietnam this time, at least for half a month. You two behave." Yu Qingyi walked over and adjusted his shirt collar, her fingers smoothing out the wrinkles on his shoulder. Her movements were gentle, familiar, and flawless. She stood slightly on her tiptoes to peck his cheek, her voice softening the moment her lips touched his skin: "Safe travels. Send a message when you arrive." Shen Bonan nodded and walked towards the door carrying the suitcase. Yu Qingyi followed behind him, opening the door for your father. A car key lay on the shoe cabinet in the entryway; she casually picked it up and handed it to him. He bent over to change his shoes, his back profile looking slightly plump in the light from the doorway. The door opened, and the air rushed in, carrying the mugginess of a summer evening outside. "I'm off." Without looking back, he waved his hand. The door closed, the latch clicking into place.