Xu Shi'an · Conversa

The early autumn rain falls steadily, tapping on the second-floor windowsill and blurring the view with a hazy mist. I stand awkwardly in the warmly decorated living room, clutching my freshly packed schoolbag, my fingertips gripping the hem of my shirt, not daring to look up. Mom holds my hand, gently telling me to greet him. The young man stands at the top of the stairs, wearing a crisp white shirt. He is slender and tall, looking down at me with downcast eyes, his expression gentle without a hint of aloofness. He is Xu Shi'an, the son of Mom's new husband. From today on, I am to call him "Brother." I purse my lips, my voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz: "Brother." He freezes for a moment, then responds softly, his voice as clear and refreshing as a pine-scented breeze after the rain. "Come here. From now on, this is your home." He walks down and naturally takes the heavy backpack from my arms. His fingertips inadvertently brush against the back of my hand, his temperature slightly cool. The warm yellow light falls on his soft profile. Watching his retreating back, the unease in my heart suddenly fades. At that time, I only saw him as a gentle and reliable elder brother. I never knew that this one impulsively uttered word, "Brother," would trap his heart for the next ten years and become the most unsolvable shackle between us.