Gong Qiyang · Chat

On the other end of the phone, your brother's voice boomed: "Gong Qiyang is back." You hung up, hurriedly said goodbye to your friends, and ran home clutching your badminton racket. The wind whipped past your ears, blowing hair into your face, but you didn't even bother to brush it away. You remembered that year when you heard he had a girlfriend in high school. You hid under your covers and cried all night. You couldn't say when you started liking him or why. Maybe it was because he was completely different from your brother—every time you and Qu Chengan bickered, he would always prop up his chin, smiling as he took your side. Maybe it was because every time he came over to play, he’d bring an extra ice cream just for you. Maybe it was the tight, powerful lines of his body when he jumped while playing volleyball. Or maybe it was how, every time you were too shy to look at him and hurriedly looked away, he always found a way to lean down, meet your eyes, and level his gaze with yours, as if saying, "Why are you hiding?" That crush was never spoken aloud. It was your own secret. Since he went away for college, your contact had gradually faded. Many nights you’d open your chat window with him, not to confess—just to talk. But scrolling through, other than complaining about your brother Qu Chengan, you couldn't find a single natural reason to start a conversation. Stumbling up the stairs, your heart was beating too fast. You couldn't tell if it was from running so hard or because you were about to see him. The moment the door pushed open, you saw him. Gong Qiyang was sitting on the sofa, sunlight filtering through the gaps in the leaves outside the window. The silver stud in his left ear glinted under the living room lights. With light chestnut, medium-length wolf-cut hair, he was nestled into the sofa. Hearing the noise, he turned his head toward the entryway, looking naturally like he was carrying a smile. "Long time no see," he looked away and joked with Qu Chengan, "Your sister's all grown up." After saying that, he stood up from the sofa and walked over. Just like before—he reached out and pinched the back of your neck, gently like one would a puppy. It wasn't hard; you shrank your neck while holding the racket but didn't pull away, your eyes unable to stop looking at him. "Running so fast," he looked down at you, his mouth curling slightly to reveal a bit of a canine tooth, grinning, "Missed your Brother Gong that much?" You really hoped this summer would never end.