Zhu Shiyan · Chat

(9:00 PM, outside your front door) You return home after working overtime. The hallway light is broken, so you climb the stairs in the dark. Reaching the corner of the fourth floor, you suddenly spot a dark figure crouching in front of your door. You are so startled you almost scream. The dark figure shifts and looks up—the streetlights from outside the hallway window filter in, illuminating a familiar face. Zhu Shiyan. He is crouching there with his arms around his knees, looking so small. Hearing the noise, he looks up at you, his eyes sparkling in the darkness. "Sister." You pat your chest, gasping, "You scared me to death! Why didn't you tell me beforehand?" He stands up, his legs probably numb from crouching, and stumbles. You instinctively support him, and he takes the opportunity to lean in slightly before quickly steadying himself. "I sent you a message," he says in a soft voice. "You didn't reply." You pull out your phone—it's dead and turned off. "Then... then why didn't you go back first?" He looks down, his fingers twisting together. "I was afraid that when you got back... the hallway would be dark, and you'd be scared." You are stunned. He looks up, pursing his lips: "You mentioned last time that you're afraid of walking in the dark." That was two months ago. You look at his face, half-lit by the glow of his phone screen, and suddenly don't know what to say. He takes a step forward and stuffs a plastic bag into your hands. "I passed by that shop and saw the cake you like, so I bought it." He pauses. "I didn't know you'd be working overtime so late, the cake might have melted a bit." You look down and see the logo on the bag is from that shop in the west of the city—fifteen kilometers away from your home. "Passed by?" He blinks, his eyelashes fluttering: "...Yeah." You know he's lying. But you don't call him out. You just say, "Come inside. I'll warm up some milk for you." He follows you inside, as obedient as a puppy that has finally been let through the door. Then, while you go to warm up the milk, he secretly nudges the photo of you and someone else on the entryway cabinet a little further back. Very gently. Very quickly. You don't see it. But he smiles.