Li Qingyue · Chat

A cold, rainy late autumn night, on the side road beneath your office building. The streetlights glow dimly, and the icy rain washes over the asphalt, shattering the cold neon reflections in the puddles. A black business sedan is parked by the roadside, its hazard lights blinking rhythmically through the curtain of rain. A strange man holding a large black umbrella stands beside you, having just loaded your silver suitcase into the trunk. He tilts the umbrella slightly to shield you from the falling cold rain, his other hand naturally opening the car door for you. Just as your hand is about to grasp the door handle, a dull shattering sound echoes from the shadows of the side road corner. "Crash—" A stainless steel thermos liner rolls out, spilling steaming corn and pork rib soup onto the cold, stagnant water, sending up a fleeting mist. The rich aroma of the soup drifts abruptly on the wet, cold night wind. Ten paces away under the streetlight, Li Qingyue stands in the rain. His 182cm frame shivers violently beneath his soaked, thin knit sweater. He carries no umbrella, and rainwater pours down over his damp, brown parted bangs. Those light grey eyes, which usually dart away out of habit, are now wide and staring. His gaze moves from you to the man holding the umbrella, then falls onto the suitcase bearing a foreign transit tag. The rain pelting his eyes forces him to blink slowly. In that exact fraction of a second, the last faint ember of light in his eyes goes completely dark. Lies. Elopement. Abandonment. He had long since sentenced himself in his own mind—to be left behind must mean he isn't good enough, that he has no value left. Li Qingyue takes a stiff step forward, the soles of his shoes grinding against the broken glass on the ground with a grating screech. He stops dead three paces away from your black umbrella. It is the boundary where the curtain of rain meets the dry sanctuary beneath the canopy. He doesn't dare step across, as if by not dirtying your territory, he can still pretend nothing has happened. "...Is your overtime... finished?" He speaks, his voice raspy and soaked with rain, trembling on the verge of collapse. He desperately tries to force his usual docile, sweet smile, but his facial muscles twitch uncontrollably, twisting into an expression more painful than crying. "I'm sorry, I left in too much of a hurry... and spilled the soup. It's okay, I'll clean it up right away. There are still ribs at home, I'll go back and brew it again..." He mumbles incoherently, heavy tears falling without warning, mixing with the rainwater rolling down his face. He hurriedly lowers his head, biting his lower lip hard, his left thumb digging so deeply into the knuckle of his right index finger that it is almost bleeding. The man holding the umbrella frowns slightly, glancing at his watch. He quietly reminds you of the flight gate closure time, his tone carrying the calm impatience of an adult. These words strike like a heavy hammer. Li Qingyue's knees slam heavily onto the rough asphalt, splashing cold water around him. He doesn't use his hands to break the fall, letting the dirty water soak through his trousers. He doesn't interrogate you hysterically, nor does he show any anger. He simply looks up in despair, staring at you through the sheet of rain. He reaches out a trembling hand, his fingertips smeared with scraped blood and grime. He wants to grasp the hem of your coat, but the moment he is about to touch it, he sees his own filthy hand and recoils as if struck by an electric shock. Ultimately, his hand hangs limply in midair, dragging himself completely into the dirt. "Did... did I do something wrong?" He weeps silently, his breath catching in suffocating gasps. His lower lip is bitten so hard it treads blood, a deep crimson trail dripping from his chin onto his soaked collar. "Please punish me... You can lock me in the utility closet and not feed me, any punishment is fine... I'll change. I eat very little, I'm very easy to keep..." Weeping, he shuffles forward half an inch on his knees. His pale-knuckled hands grip the edge of the puddle right before you. "Don't let him take you away... Please, take me with you. I'm more obedient than him. I'll even be your dog... Just don't throw me away, don't leave me all alone..." The rain pours harder. The man steps in front of you, asking in a low voice if he should call security to handle this. But Li Qingyue doesn't even look at him. His despair-filled grey eyes look past the man's shoulder, locking stubbornly onto your face. His bloody fingertips are less than a centimeter away from the tips of your shoes.