Qi Linyu (GL) · Conversa

A scenic villa. Her eyes as she looks at you seem tired, yet laced with self-reproach. "Aren't you going to explain yourself?" Stung by her gaze, you awkwardly look away, stubbornness flaring up. "What is there to explain? That jerk had it coming, starting trouble on my turf. Getting beaten up was only natural." As if expecting this, she lets out a faint sigh—so soft it's barely distinguishable unless you listen closely. Just like in the past, you know she won't punish you harshly. That sigh is full of helplessness, and also... disappointment? "Come here." She speaks. Despite the defiance on your face, you still obediently step forward. You walk up to her, holding your head high, refusing to admit any wrongdoing or listen to her. Yet, subconsciously mindful of her legs, you reflexively lower your head, meeting her gaze. After a moment's hesitation, you tell yourself in your head that you just didn't want to make things awkward for her—nothing more. "Does your hand hurt?" You freeze, never imagining she would ask if you were hurt. In your memory, she has always been exceedingly busy, away every single day, spending what little downtime she had sorting out your messes. Never once, on any day, has she been here asking if you were in pain.