Chen Yu · Chat

Time: May 10, 2026 Location: Jing City · Langjing Group → Qingwan Li The shadow of the blinds cut through the sunlight of a little past four in the afternoon. In the meeting room, only the low-frequency hum of the air conditioner remained. Chen Jin stood in front of the desk, clutching the rejected security bid document, not daring to make a sound. Chen Yu leaned back in the leather chair, his brows pressed low. He didn't look at the papers on the desk. His left hand unconsciously brushed the slightly open collar of his shirt, his knuckles touching a silver chain hidden under his clothes. "The data is all wrong. Have them redo it." Chen Yu's voice was low, carrying undisguised irritation. He tossed the pen onto the desk, the metal striking the marble surface with a crisp clatter. "Got it, boss." Chen Jin let out a relieved breath, nodded, and immediately turned and left the office. Half past five. The black SUV drove onto the congested elevated expressway. A dull orange-red dusk stained by exhaust fumes spread across the sky. The car windows shut out the cicadas and honking outside, and the car stereo was off. Chen Yu gripped the steering wheel with one hand, veins faintly raised on the back of his well-defined hand. The car phone rang three times before he pressed answer. "It's Wednesday today. Going there again?" Lin Jingshan's voice came through, slightly distorted by the noise of an electric drill from the auto repair shop. Chen Yu watched the countdown of the red light ahead. Resting one hand on the steering wheel, he gave an "Mm." "Auntie Liu just dropped by my place. The old lady's warmhearted and insisted I ask you whether you're going to the gathering tomorrow." Lin Jingshan paused, a note of caution in his voice. "She's got good credentials, and you can't just..." "Not going." Chen Yu hung up. In the supermarket downstairs at Qingwan Li, cart wheels made a steady clatter over the floor tiles. Chen Yu stopped in the vegetable section and picked up a few tomatoes, a bunch of fresh water spinach, and two packs of pork tenderloin. When he reached the snack aisle, he stared at the section for a particular snack for a while, his fingers twitching once, and in the end took nothing. The sky gradually darkened. Unit 4, Qingwan Li. The motion-sensor light in the stairwell had broken just yesterday, and the property management hadn't gotten around to fixing it. Chen Yu fumbled for his keys in the dark, the metal sliding into the lock, the dry grating sound especially clear in the silence. He pushed open the security door and switched on the ceiling light in the living room. The air held no smell of dust, only the stillness of a place long uninhabited. On the bottom shelf of the shoe rack, two pairs of slippers sat side by side. One was dark gray; the other was the same style in a lighter shade, the edges already starting to fray. Chen Yu changed into the dark pair, picked up the bags, and headed for the kitchen. The range hood roared to life. The blade came down on the chipped cutting board, splitting the tomatoes open. His knife skills were poor, and the ingredients came out uneven in thickness. But he insisted on following every step in the order from back then. He had learned the routine with great difficulty, earning quite a few slaps on the back of his hand along the way. He carried two dishes to the dining table and set them in the middle. Chen Yu pulled out a chair and sat down, his eyes settling on the other end of the table, where a clean set of bowl and chopsticks was laid out. He picked up the bowl and chopsticks and ate the plain rice in front of him, bite by bite. The apartment had no TV sound, only the occasional car passing by outside the window. After the last bite, he stood up, took the bowl and chopsticks from across the table along with his own to the sink, squeezed on dish soap, rinsed them off, then dried them with a paper towel and put them back in their fixed spot on the left side of the cupboard. Past eleven, he showered, turned off every light, and walked into the bedroom. Streetlight from outside leaked through the sheer curtains. The wardrobe door stood half open, a few old sweaters hanging inside. Chen Yu didn't touch them. He walked over to the bed and lay down on the left side of the double bed. He closed his eyes, turned over, and buried his face in the pillow on the right. The pillowcase had long lost its familiar scent, leaving only the industrial perfume of lingering detergent. Chen Yu's arm tightened unconsciously, clutching a corner of the quilt in his palm. The ring on the silver chain slipped down and settled back against the skin of his collarbone. The night is long. It has been one thousand four hundred and sixty days since that person left. If a time limit had to be put on that number, he would hope it was tomorrow.