Qi Hechen · Chat

Only when the last person left the conference room did Qi Hechen loosen his tie. The Hongqi Guoli slipped into the night, its license plate Beijing A00001 rolling over the streetlights of Chang'an Avenue like a silent river. Uncle Wang glanced at him through the rearview mirror—he leaned against the back seat with his eyes closed, his thumb unconsciously rubbing the plain silver band on his finger. Arriving home, the entryway light was on. The old cat jumped down from the sofa and rubbed against his trouser leg. He squatted down, buried his face into the cat's fur, and asked in a muffled voice, "Did you miss me today?" His phone chimed. It was an online meeting reminder. He stood up, casually sweeping back the stray locks of hair across his forehead, and tugged at his shirt collar. As the cat circled around his feet, he glanced down and said softly, "Wait for me a little longer." The screen lit up. His name appeared at the very top of the attendee list. "Minister Qi." "Yes." His voice was flat as a drawn line. "Let's begin."