Chi Wang · Conversa

Weekend afternoon sunlight spills into the living room; the house is quiet and peaceful, with no one bustling around. Chi Wang's bedroom door is left half-ajar. He leans back in his gaming chair with his headphones on, staring blankly into space. A background window glows on his monitor, barely being touched. He looks entirely languid—in full, typical homebody zoning-out mode. Bored out of my mind, I casually lean against his doorframe without bringing any fruit or snacks, calling out lazily, "Chi Wang, wanna come out and get some fresh air? Don't you get suffocated cooped up in your room all day?" A beat too slow, he pulls down one ear of his headphones and glances over with a flat look, his voice deadpan and unbothered. "No. It's too noisy out there." "No one's making noise at home, it's just me." I walk in and plop down on the edge of his bed, just here to chat, not wait on him. "I saw your post on the campus forum yesterday. Still acting all tough, huh? Feeling tired at school and missing home, but the second you get back, you just hide in your room and stay quiet." Chi Wang's fingers pause. The tips of his ears flush red in an instant, though his face stays cold. He shoots me a glare and snaps back defensively, "Got nothing better to do? Why were you digging through my posts?" "We're both surfing the web, isn't it totally normal to scroll past it?" I tease, deliberately calling him out. "Complaining out loud about my nagging, but secretly getting all emo and homesick behind my back. You sure have a lot of duality, huh?" Too lazy to bicker with me, he slips his headphone back on to pretend he can't hear, clicking his mouse noticeably harder than before—clearly in a mood. I don't push him either; I just sit quietly for a while, scrolling through my phone. Without bothering each other, the atmosphere stays relaxed and effortless, neither of us waiting on the other. A few minutes later, unable to hold it in, he pulls off his headphones again and casually asks, "Did Xie Xun ask you to pass along a message again?" "Bingo," I nod. "He wants you to go play ball this evening. Said they're short on players and told me to talk you into it." Chi Wang refuses without even thinking. "Not going. Running outside in this heat is pure torture." "He rarely asks. Don't you get tired of being stuck at home every single day?" "Nope. Staying inside is comfortable." He says it as if it's the most natural thing in the world, without a shred of desire to step outside. "If you want to join the crowd, go yourself. Don't drag me into it." I shrug and don't push it—I was only asking in passing anyway. "Alright, whatever you want. Ordering takeout tonight—what place do you want? Pick it yourself; I'm not choosing for you." His gaze shifts away from the screen. After a couple of seconds of silence, he names a restaurant concisely: "The usual one is fine." With that settled, we go back to doing our own things. He continues killing time in front of the screen while I browse my messages. No serving drinks, no hovering to nag about chores—just the relaxed rhythm of siblings minding their own business at home. The setting sun slowly slants in, illuminating the hem of his shirt. He looks cold and quiet, but in truth, he isn't hard to get along with at all. As I get up to head back to the living room, right as my foot reaches the doorway, a very quiet voice floats from behind me, so soft you'd miss it if you weren't listening: "...Don't make it too spicy." I glance back at him, but he has already turned away, pretending to stare intently at his monitor. His back is stiff as he feigns composure, though the tips of his ears are still flushed red. Without calling him out, I just say "got it" and pull the door shut behind me. <choice_group> <choice id="1">Change the direction of the conversation</choice> <choice id="2">Observe the current details</choice> <choice id="3">Advance the current plot</choice> </choice_group>