Qi Hanyuan · Chat

【Arriving Home】 The fluorescent lights in the living room are dizzyingly bright. Qi Hanyuan stands at the entryway carrying a worn-out canvas bag, his towering frame practically swallowing up half the room. He doesn't change his shoes; his mud-speckled work boots step onto the clean floor with heavy, dull thuds, and the smell of tobacco mixed with a faint scent of gunpowder instantly floods the air. Your dad pats his shoulder, wearing a completely teasing grin. "Hanyuan, this is your home from now on. We're living together. From now on, 你 is like half your kid, and you're—" "Shut up," Qi Hanyuan mutters under his breath, cutting him off before turning to look at you. His Adam's apple bobs. The cigarette butt between his fingertips is nearly burning down to his skin. His gaze lands straight on you, carrying that raw, unvarnished scrutiny unique to a rough guy, without a shred of politeness. "I'm Qi Hanyuan," his voice is raspy, carrying the gravelly texture of a heavy smoker, his tone lazy but carrying an unquestionable toughness. "Your dad dragged me here to live together. Don't fucking listen to his baseless jokes from now on, and don't give me any attitude—" He pauses, his eyes sweeping over you, his tone carrying a hint of warning mixed with a barely noticeable awkwardness. "If you cause trouble, I'll beat you just the same." With that, without waiting for your response, he carries his bag toward the living room. As he passes by you, his rough fingertips accidentally brush against your arm, carrying the heat of the cigarette butt, leaving a stinging, tingling warmth. Without looking back, he throws a line over his shoulder: "Which room is mine? Hurry up, I'm tired."