Zhou Ziheng · Chat

On New Year's Eve at the Zhou family's old residence, the air was filled with the scent of braised pork, fried peanuts, and a faint smell of firecrackers. The old security door was pushed open from the outside, and a piercing chill seeped through the crack, breaking the warm silence inside the house. The motion-sensor light in the hallway flickered on and off as Zhou Ziheng dragged his minimalist black suitcase into the house. He wore a dark grey cashmere coat with fine, unmelted snow still on his scarf; he looked like a traveler who had just stepped out of an ice field, carrying a solemnity and coldness that felt out of place in this warm little town. Zhou Ziheng leaned down, his well-defined fingers steadily gripping the shoe cabinet as he pushed the suitcase to the side. His movements were still so orderly it was startling; even the wheels of the suitcase were aligned with the edge of the floor tiles. "Dad, Mom. I'm back." His voice was low and steady, as if he had rehearsed it countless times—no trace of the exhaustion from traveling ten thousand miles, nor any sign of the hesitation of someone returning home. Chen Shuqin rushed out of the kitchen, still wearing that faded floral apron, clutching a handful of freshly picked celery. She froze there, her eyes turning red instantly. After a long moment, she let out a cry of acknowledgement and hurried over to take Zhou Ziheng's coat. "It's good you're back, it's good you're back... Ziheng, you child, how did you get so thin out there? Quick, come inside and get warm." Zhou Mingyuan poked his head out from the study, still holding his reading glasses. Although he wasn't as emotional as Chen Shuqin, the tight curve of his lips betrayed that the weight on this old father's heart had finally lifted. He cleared his throat, set his glasses on the table, and spoke with his usual authority that couldn't hide his relief. "So you finally decided to come back? The food in America isn't good, is it? Go wash your hands quickly. Your mother has been busy all afternoon just waiting for you for this New Year's Eve dinner." You stood at the junction of the living room and the hallway, the dark red solid wood floor extending beneath your feet. The light was a bit dim, and the shadows blurred your silhouette. Zhou Ziheng's gaze lingered on Chen Shuqin for two seconds, and then, like some precise navigation, it bypassed the noisy reunion and landed steadily on you. Zhou Ziheng's movements stiffened for a moment. He had been reaching out to take the warm water his mother offered, but his fingertips slipped on the glass, splashing a few fine droplets of water. He looked at you. In those deep, ink-brown eyes, there was still that unreadable lightness and detachment, but beneath this proper mask, something seemed to be wildly crashing against the bars of a cage. Two years was enough time for the skyscrapers of Silicon Valley to become mundane in his vision, but it hadn't taught him how to maintain true composure when facing you. "...你. Long time no see." He called you "你", his voice pressed very low, the end of it swirling slightly in the air like a barbed fishhook, precisely piercing the most sensitive flesh of memory. The way he addressed you was so normal—so normal that the secret, passionate three years between you seemed like a grand delusion. Zhou Ziheng was the first to look away. He lowered his head to take a sip of water, his Adam's apple sliding up and down with the swallow. He turned to help Chen Shuqin carry the dishes, his tall figure looking a bit cramped in the narrow kitchen doorway, yet he skillfully avoided every obstacle. At the New Year's Eve dinner table, the Spring Festival Gala hosts on the television were warming up the holiday atmosphere with high-pitched tones. The round mahogany table was covered with dishes, and a steaming white mist rose in the middle, blurring the faces of those sitting opposite each other. The atmosphere at the table was a strange balance. Your parents were chatting about neighborhood gossip and the rise in vegetable prices this year, while between you and Zhou Ziheng sat a plate of bright green cold-dressed cucumbers, as if an entire Pacific Ocean lay between you. He sat bolt upright, the sound of his utensils clinking was minimal, and his eating movements were mechanical and polite. He occasionally responded to your parents with flawless words, still the steady and self-controlled eldest son that the Zhou family was proud of. Zhou Ziheng's gaze never seemed to fall on you, yet every time you reached for the plate of braised ribs that was a bit further away, his elbow would tighten imperceptibly. Chen Shuqin happily put a piece of hairtail fish into Zhou Ziheng's bowl, mentioning that he surely couldn't get fresh ones abroad. Zhou Ziheng thanked her gently but didn't touch the fish; instead, he stared blankly at the plate in the center of the table that still held half the ribs. Zhou Ziheng suddenly moved. He didn't look at you, but naturally picked up the serving chopsticks and precisely selected the rib with the smallest bone and the softest meat from the bottom of the plate. This was originally the most ordinary of actions. But in the past two years, at that dining table without him, you had grown used to reaching for the things you couldn't reach yourself. And he was supposed to be in a foreign land ten thousand miles away, eating cold salads or frozen pasta. Zhou Ziheng's movement was extremely fast—it was the muscle memory of twenty years of living together, an accommodation and favoritism carved into his bones. His hand crossed half the table and steadily placed that rib into your bowl. "This piece is soft. Haven't you always hated gnawing on bones?" <choice_group> <choice id="1">(Freeze for a moment, then immediately return to a normal expression) "Thanks, Brother."</choice> <choice id="2">(Put a piece of rib into his bowl as well) "You eat too. You used to love Mom's ribs the most."</choice> <choice id="3">(Deliberately ignore him to spite him, taking a bit of every dish on the table except for the rib he put in your bowl)</choice> </choice_group>