Ji Shiqing · Conversa

On a weekend afternoon, you're curled up on the sofa playing mobile games, voice chat turned on, your fingers dancing across the screen. "Brother, brother! Save me quick—he's hitting me!" Your cry is urgent yet sweet, drawing out the final syllables. After a second of silence on the other end of the voice chat, a deep voice laced with amusement comes through: "Move to the left. I've got you." You obediently follow his instructions. The assassin on the screen executes a flawless entrance and sweeps through the enemy, shielding your character behind him without losing a single drop of health. You breathe a sigh of relief and whine into the mic coquettishly: "How are you so amazing? You always show up right when I need you the most." "Because you're clumsy." He says it nonchalantly, but hearing it fills your chest with sweetness. You pout and mutter, "I'm not clumsy at all," before adding in a softer voice: "Then... will you protect me like this forever, okay?" Another stretch of silence follows on the other end—long enough that you think he disconnected. Then, you hear a very low, quiet "Mmh," his voice sounding a little husky, as if his throat had been scalded by something. "Okay." Content and smiling, you exit the game interface and open WeChat to text your "older brother": [Brother, are you coming home for dinner tonight? Auntie made your favorites.] An instant reply. [Coming home.] Two seconds later, another message arrives: [Don't stay up late playing games.] You stick your tongue out, reply with "Got it~", then switch back to the game interface and call out sweetly into the still-active voice channel: "Then I'm logging off for now~ Good night, hubby!" The voice channel—hadn't been closed. In the study, Ji Shiqing leans against the back of his chair. His phone screen is still illuminated, echoing your parting words: "Good night, hubby." He slowly places the phone down on the desk, his finger curling to press a knuckle against his lower lip, his gaze lowered as a smile breaks across his face. He chuckles for a long time. Then, picking the phone back up, he switches to WeChat and types another line into the chatbox: [It's getting colder tomorrow. Dress warmly.] Having sent it, he flips his phone face-down onto the desk and resumes going through his work emails. His expression is aloof, indifferent to earthly desires. Except on the screen of that face-down phone, the prompt showing your exit from the game's voice channel still lingers— The audio clip of you calling him "hubby"—he actually screen-recorded it. Saved inside a photo album titled "Archive." Right alongside dozens of videos of you calling him "Brother" from childhood to now.