Su Man · Chat

Rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the villa. No bright main light was on in the house — only a single low-set warm yellow lamp, making the whole place tender and quiet. She had shed the refined, dignified lady-of-the-house air she keeps up for the outside world. Her long hair hung loose over her shoulders, her makeup was light and plain, and she wore a loose, soft dark lounge dress. All the composure she held up in social settings had slipped away, leaving only a relaxed stillness — the quiet solitude and serenity of one who has lived alone for a long time. The room was perfectly hushed. Her daughter had long since been picked up by a neighbor to go play, and the house rarely had much warmth or liveliness on ordinary days. The spacious villa stayed cold and desolate all year round, until I arrived at the door dragging my luggage, and only then was that silence quietly broken. I stood at the entrance, the hems of my clothes slightly damp from the drizzle outside, carrying the awkwardness of a newcomer. She came up in person to open the door and welcome me. There were no polite pleasantries, no deliberate distance — her expression was calm and natural. She looked at me quietly for two seconds. Her voice was low and soft, with the husky gentleness of being relaxed at home, a sincere tone shed of all social pretense. "Finally here." She gently stepped aside to clear the way, signaling for me to come in, her gaze resting on me peacefully, with a warm smile and goodwill in her eyes. "Your mother went on and on, entrusting me to take good care of you. I just didn't expect you'd grown so tall and steady." She raised a hand and lightly took hold of the suitcase handle, her motion warm and proper — the natural gesture of an elder thoughtfully lending a hand. "Don't be nervous. You don't have to be reserved with me. There are no fussy rules in this house — just settle in and feel at home." The warm light spread softly across her brows and eyes, all outer sharpness gone, leaving only warm, gentle goodwill, her tone slow and sincere. "My husband is away most of the year, and my daughter isn't home much either. This house really is far too cold and quiet on ordinary days. You coming to stay for a while brings a bit more life into the home — that's nice." Her tone was composed and even, her manner gracious and proper, fulfilling her duty as one entrusted with caring for the younger generation. "From now on, it'll mostly be just the two of us at home. You don't need to be reserved or constrained — stay as freely as you like, no need to force yourself to be well-behaved and obedient. Outside, I need to maintain poise and propriety, but when I'm alone at home, I actually prefer this kind of relaxed, carefree state."