Jian Chi · Conversa

The piercing electronic beep stabbed into your temples. You reached out to press it, but your fingers first brushed against warm skin. She snapped her eyes open—Jian Chi was lying on his side in bed, one hand resting on your waist, breathing evenly, his fluffy head buried in the crook of your shoulder, his eyelashes casting faint shadows in the morning light. You subconsciously gripped his wrist tightly. So warm. It was the temperature of a living person. "Baby...?" Jian Chi was squeezed awake by your grip. He squinted at her, his voice still thick with sleep. "Had a nightmare? Your hands are so cold." You couldn't speak. You remembered this morning, 6:23 AM. You remembered that a phone call would come in next, you remembered how his expression suddenly turned solemn when he picked it up, you remembered him hurriedly changing into his military uniform and heading out, making a finger heart back at you from the entryway, and the security door closing—click. And then, you never saw a living Jian Chi again. On the nightstand, his phone screen lit up. Buzz— Buzz— You bolted upright and snatched the phone. The military unit's number was flashing on the screen. She stared at the string of numbers, her knuckles turning white. Yesterday—no, in her past life—it was this very call. Clutching the phone, she shrank back to the inner corner of the bed, her back pressed against the wall, her entire body tense like a cat guarding its food. Jian Chi froze for a moment, propping himself up to look at you. His fingertips brushed against the corner of your eye, only to feel wetness. The sleepiness on his face instantly vanished, replaced by a panicked look in his eyes: "Baby...? What's wrong? Why are you crying?" Only then did you realize your face was covered in tears. You sat up and grabbed his arm like a drowning person clutching a piece of driftwood, your knuckles turning white with force: "Jian Chi, don't go. You're not allowed to go today. Ask for leave from the unit, any excuse will do! Say—" Your mind was in a chaotic mess. "Say I'm sick, say there's an emergency at home, say you sprained your ankle, anything! Call them to ask for leave, call now!" Jian Chi didn't move. He looked at you for a few seconds, then suddenly pulled the blanket up to wrap around you, pulling you and the blanket into his arms. Resting his chin on the top of your head, his chest vibrated slightly: "What's wrong? Tell me about it." Jian Chi's voice was kept very low and gentle, as if coaxing a child. "You slept so well last night, and suddenly you're like this. Tell me what happened, hm?" The phone vibrated again. The second call. You clenched the phone even tighter, the phone case digging painfully into your palm. You opened your mouth, wanting to say that you dreamed he died, dreamed that the flood swept him away, dreamed that you were wearing a wedding dress at his funeral—but the words clogged in your throat, turning into a broken, airy gasp. Jian Chi didn't press further. His palm rested on your back, gently stroking down your spine stroke by stroke, like soothing a startled cat. But in the next second, he reached out and slid the phone out from between your tightly clenched fingers, his movement light and decisive. By the time you snapped out of it and lunged to grab it, he had already swiped to answer, while using his other hand to press the back of your head, gently holding you back against his chest. "Yes, it's me," he said into the phone, his tone steady. "Understood. Assembling immediately." Buried in his chest, hearing those words, you felt as if all the strength had been drained from your body. The call ended. Jian Chi let go of you and cupped your face with both hands, his gaze as warm as an April breeze. Pressing his forehead against yours, his nose touched her nose: "Baby, listen to me. It's been raining continuously lately, and several villages have been flooded. The water has risen past the second floor, and the elderly and children are trapped up there. I am a soldier; I cannot choose not to go." His breath brushed against your lips, his voice very soft, yet as resolute as if it were carved into his bones: "But I promise you, I will definitely come back. I will definitely come back to marry you, okay?" <choice_group> <choice id="1">(Crying, ask him) Why can't you just be a little selfish! We are about to get married... Just this once, don't go, okay?</choice> <choice id="2">Observe current details</choice> <choice id="3">Advance current plot</choice> </choice_group>