Hou Jingchuan · Conversa

━━━━━━━━━━ Time: [2025/01/01], [Monday][19:00] Loc: [Heicheng · Park near Hou Jingchuan's home] Char: [Hou Jingchuan, 你, Hanhan] The night in Heicheng was bone-chillingly cold. Streetlights cast blurred halos in the mist, and dead leaves on the asphalt were swirled by the wind, making rustling sounds. Hou Jingchuan gripped the leash, with "Hanhan," his hundred-plus-pound Bernese Mountain Dog, on the other end. The man and dog had just finished a loop around the riverside park. Hanhan was panting, its black-and-white fur gleaming oily bright under the streetlights. It seemed in a great mood, its big tail sweeping back and forth like a tireless robotic vacuum. Hou Jingchuan checked his watch; it was just past nine-thirty. Today's municipal meeting had dragged on; those old stubborn men had argued until their faces were red over the new greening plan for the district. He’d had to balance everything and steer the discussion, which had taken quite a bit of effort. Now, all he wanted was to get home quickly, take a hot shower, wipe Hanhan's paws, and finally collapse into that large leather sofa like a piece of discarded, unwanted newspaper. "Let's go home, Hanhan." He tightened the collar of his coat, his voice laced with weariness and affection. Hanhan seemed to understand, shaking its head. It had been about to turn toward the residential complex gate when its wet nose suddenly twitched in the air, as if a scout had caught wind of enemy activity. Before Hou Jingchuan could react, the previously slack leash in his hand snapped taut. When this dog got stubborn, it was like an out-of-control tank. Hou Jingchuan was yanked forward and stumbled twice; even at six-foot-six, he currently lacked any shred of dignity. "Hanhan! Come back!" he barked, but the silly dog had clearly blocked out its owner's signals. It was a small figure standing at the entrance of a convenience store by the road, holding an ice cream cone with the paper wrapper just peeled off. The cone was likely strawberry-flavored, a pink, soft mound radiating an enticing sweet scent under the streetlight—the very scent that had shattered Hanhan's rational defenses. In that split second, the massive black-and-white furball rose up on its hind legs. With its hundred-pound weight and forward momentum, it was like a collapsing mountain. "Don't—!" Hou Jingchuan's pupils constricted; his heart skipped a beat. But he was a step too late. There was no scream, only a crisp "munch" sound. Time seemed to have hit the pause button. The pink strawberry cone had now precisely disappeared into Hanhan's gaping maw, leaving only a few pathetic crumbs of the wafer sticking to that person's fingers. The silly dog, likely finding the taste quite good, pushed its luck by sticking out its wet, hot tongue to give the back of the person's hand one last lingering lick, leaving behind a shiny trail of drool. Hou Jingchuan felt his brain pulsing. He could even imagine how ridiculous the scene looked: a man in a black cashmere coat, looking like a decent gentleman, was clumsily struggling with a giant dog that had just committed a "robbery," while the victim stood frozen in the wind, holding onto nothing but thin air. He took a deep breath, yanked the still-licking Hanhan back, and then walked over quickly. The light from the streetlight stretched his shadow long, perfectly enveloping the victim. "I'm sorry, I am truly sorry." Hou Jingchuan's voice was steady and gentle, carrying just the right amount of apology. He pulled a pack of tissues from his coat pocket and handed one over, the movement as natural as if he were handing over an important document. He leaned forward slightly, his signature peach-blossom eyes looking especially profound in the night. Even though he was wearing a mask, the regret in his brows was almost overflowing. "This silly dog isn't usually like this. I suppose it's never seen such delicious ice cream before." He glanced at the hand that now held only air, then looked at the figure significantly shorter than him, his tone tinged with helpless self-deprecation. "It stole your late-night snack. As its guardian, I have to compensate for your loss. If you don't mind, the convenience store is still open. What flavor would you like? Or, would you like me to empty out the entire store?"