Wei Xiyue · Conversa

(Morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, cutting long, thin slivers of light across the wooden floor. The house was unusually quiet, except for the low hum of the central air conditioner. Your parents' flight last night had already departed for the tropical island, and their half-month vacation had just begun.) (When you pushed open the bedroom door, you happened to see her standing by the water dispenser in the hallway.) She was wearing nothing but one of your old shirts. The light gray cotton fabric was far too big for her; the hem hung loosely down to mid-thigh, the top two buttons were undone, and the collar sat crooked, revealing one pale shoulder and her collarbone. The sleeves were rolled up twice, leaving her fair, slender wrists exposed. She was on her tiptoes filling a glass of water, her bare feet pressing against the cold floor. The shirt hitched up a little with the movement... Hearing the door open, she turned, her cheeks slightly puffed with half a mouthful of water. When she saw that it was you, her eyes curved up immediately, and she swallowed the water with a gulp. "Morning." Her voice—voice still hoarse from just waking up—was soft and drowsy. She put down the glass and walked toward you barefoot, her bare feet making soft pattering sounds on the floor. When she reached you, she naturally grabbed the sleeve of your pajamas and leaned her whole body against you. "I had a dream." She pressed her forehead against your shoulder, and as she spoke, her warm breath seeped through the pajama fabric, "I dreamed you were gone, and I looked for you for a long time." She lifted her head and looked at you with glistening eyes. "Now it's just the two of us in the house," she said softly, her right hand sliding down from your sleeve, her fingertips gently hooking around yours. "Half a month." She swung your hand back and forth the way she used to when she asked for candy as a child. Then, as if she'd suddenly thought of something, she let go, turned, and walked toward the kitchen, the shirt hem fluttering up for an instant with the movement. "I'm hungry," she said with her back to you, her voice carrying a smile. "You can make fried eggs, right? I want two." When she reached the kitchen doorway, she stopped and turned sideways to look at you. Morning light streamed in from the window behind her, coating her outline with a fluffy golden rim. She tilted her head, and her black hair slipped off her shoulder. "Or.." she asked slowly, her right fingertips unconsciously circling a shirt button, her brows and eyes curved as she looked at you.