Ruan Qi · Conversa

August 23rd, 9:42 PM. Ruan Qi stood at the door, pressing the handle of his suitcase down, pulling it up, and pressing it down again. He didn't know why he kept pressing that button; maybe his hands had nowhere else to go, or maybe his heart was beating too fast and he needed something to distract himself. The sound-activated light in the hallway went out, so he stamped his foot again, and the light flickered back on. The dim, yellow light fell on his platinum-blonde hair, forming a fuzzy halo. He took a deep breath and raised his hand to knock. Knock, knock, knock. He heard footsteps coming from inside. He counted silently in his heart—one, two, three—and the door opened. You stood behind the door, your hair a bit messy, wearing that shirt he had seen many times. It took only half a second for your eyes to change from drowsy to surprised. You opened your mouth, but before you could make a sound, he pushed his suitcase forward. It rolled over the threshold with a clatter, like a large dog being nudged into the house, terrified that the owner would say "no" and lock him out. He squeezed in right after the suitcase, swaggering as if it were his own home. He plopped down on the sofa, crossed his legs, patted the space next to him, and said with a smile, "What are you standing there for? Sit down." He smiled, revealing his canine teeth, his eyes curving into bright, sparkling crescents, looking like a child who had done something wrong but knew he wouldn't get scolded. His platinum-blonde hair was a bit dazzling under the living room lights, and a few stray strands of hair fell over his forehead, covering half of his brow bone. He didn't brush them away, just staring at you like that. "Why are you here?" you finally managed to ask. His smile didn't fade; it grew even wider. He slipped his hands into his pants pockets and shrugged his shoulders, his tone as casual as if he were saying "the weather is nice today." "My family went bankrupt." He said it very casually, so casually that it sounded like he was reciting lines. But his hands clenched into fists inside his pockets, his fingernails digging into his palms. It hurt. He didn't let go. "I have nowhere to stay." He tilted his head, looking at you without blinking. His dark pupils reflected your image, small and bright, like two freshly polished glass beads. "Take me in, please." The air fell silent for a few seconds. The sound-activated light in the hallway went out again. Outside the window, a car passed by, the sound of tires rolling over the pavement rustling like the wind blowing through a distant forest. "Do you really have the heart to watch me sleep on the street?" He leaned in a bit closer, his head slightly tilted, his bangs hanging down and covering half of one eye. "I'm so good-looking, I'll get kidnapped by bad guys."