Response
At six in the morning, as dawn broke, Qi Shuo woke up on the narrow sofa, a slight ache in his neck and shoulders from his uncomfortable sleeping position. He stretched his stiff neck, sat up, and his gaze unconsciously fell on the closed bedroom door.
The room was quiet, so quiet that I could hear my own steady breathing. The exhaustion and chaotic thoughts of last night had settled into a deeper peace after a few hours of light sleep.
He quietly got up, folded the messy blanket on the sofa, and went into the bathroom to wash up.
The cold water splashed on his face, bringing him complete clarity. He looked at himself in the mirror, wearing a T-shirt that was clearly a size too small, paused, then turned and walked out of the bathroom into the kitchen.
Although the kitchen was simple, it had basic cooking utensils and ingredients. Qi Shuo opened the refrigerator and saw eggs, milk, vegetables, and a small bag of black rice neatly arranged inside.
He took out the black rice, skillfully rinsed it, added water, put it in the rice cooker, and set it to the porridge mode. He also took two eggs from the refrigerator, fried them, and stir-fried some refreshing greens.
The aroma of food gradually filled the small space. The porridge was cooked, steaming hot and fragrant with rice. Qi Shuo put the porridge and vegetables into the rice cooker to keep them warm, and covered the fried egg with a plate.
After doing all this, he walked to the bedroom door, raised his hand to knock and wake Tan Huaiyu up, but stopped just before his fingertips touched the door.
After hesitating for a moment, he gently turned the doorknob and pushed the door open a crack.
The bedroom was dimly lit, with heavy blackout curtains drawn. Tan Huaiyu lay on his side in bed, fast asleep. He was wearing light gray cotton pajamas, and the blanket had been kicked up to his waist, leaving most of his shoulder and arm exposed.
The air was cool on this autumn morning. He probably felt cold, because he unconsciously curled up in his sleep, his brows furrowing slightly, making him look pitifully childish.
Qi Shuo stood at the door, watching quietly. Tan Huaiyu, in her sleep, had shed the composure, aloofness, or deliberate obedience she displayed when awake; only a sense of unguarded tranquility remained in her eyes. Soft, wispy hairs were scattered messily on the pillow, long eyelashes cast small shadows beneath her eyes, her lips were slightly pursed, and her breathing was even and shallow.
Qi Shuo felt a gentle touch on the softest part of his heart.
He sighed silently and quietly went inside. He bent down and gently pulled the blanket back up, carefully covering Tan Huaiyu's shoulders, and tucked the corners in to make sure it wouldn't slip off again.
His fingers inadvertently brushed against Tan Huaiyu's exposed, slightly cool arm skin, and the cool touch made his fingertips curl up almost imperceptibly.
After doing all this, he didn't leave immediately, but sat down by the bed. In the dim light, he quietly watched Tan Huaiyu's sleeping face.
Time seemed to stretch out and slow down at this moment. Everything around them quieted down, leaving only Tan Huaiyu's steady breathing and the increasingly clear and uncontrollable heartbeat in his chest.
As if guided by some unseen force, Qi Shuo slowly raised his hand. His fingers hovered in mid-air for a long time, as if they were going through a silent battle.
Finally, with a touch of almost reverence and extreme care, her calloused fingertips lightly touched Tan Huaiyu's cheek.
It felt warm to the touch, and the skin felt smooth. The temperature was like a faint electric current, instantly coursing from my fingertips to my heart, bringing a subtle yet distinct shiver.
Qi Shuo recoiled as if burned, abruptly pulling his hand back. The lingering warmth on his fingertips, however, was unforgettable, even carrying a burning sensation.
He clenched his fist quickly, his knuckles turning slightly white from the force, as if he wanted to tightly grasp and crush that moment of uncontrolled touch and throbbing.
He closed his eyes in the darkness, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. When he opened his eyes again, the complex emotions that had surged within them were forcibly suppressed, and his usual calm was restored.
He stood up, no longer looking at the person on the bed, turned around, tiptoed out of the bedroom, and gently closed the door.
He walked into the living room, took out his phone from his pocket, opened WeChat, and found Tan Huaiyu's profile picture. His finger paused on the screen for a moment, then he typed a few lines:
"Breakfast is kept warm in the rice cooker, and the fried eggs are on the table. I'm going to work now."
send.
He changed his clothes, picked up his keys, took one last look at the closed bedroom door, then pushed it open, walked out, and gently closed the security door behind him.
Around nine o'clock, sunlight was already filtering through the gaps in the curtains, casting bright spots of light on the bedroom floor.
Tan Huaiyu was awakened by the strong sunlight streaming through the curtains. He opened his eyes groggily, feeling a splitting headache and his eyelids too heavy to lift. He had tossed and turned until the early hours of the morning before finally falling asleep, his mind a jumble of images: the feeling of Qi Shuo leaning on his shoulder, the words "Let's sleep together," and the T-shirt he was wearing... The alarm clock rang and stopped, stopped and rang again, but he didn't hear it even once.
He struggled to sit up, rubbing his throbbing temples, and instinctively reached for his phone beside his pillow. The screen lit up, displaying the time—9:27. There were also a few unread messages.
He clicked on it, and the top message was from "Qi Shuo," sent at 6:42 AM.
[Breakfast is kept warm in the rice cooker, and the fried egg is on the table. I'm going to work now.]
Those few words instantly jolted Tan Huaiyu's muddled mind mostly awake. He stared at the message for several seconds, his lips involuntarily curving upwards into a silly grin on his still sleepy face.
Qi Shuo made him breakfast.
Qi Shuo...went into his room this morning? Did he come to wake him up and see him like that? Then...did he see him kicking off the covers? And the way he slept so carelessly...?
A belated blush crept up his ears, but it was quickly overwhelmed by a stronger surge of warmth and sweetness in his heart. He threw back the covers, got out of bed, and walked barefoot into the living room. On the dining table, a plate lay upside down, revealing two perfectly fried, golden-brown eggs underneath.
He walked into the kitchen, opened the rice cooker, and a unique, rich, and warm aroma of black rice porridge wafted out. The porridge was still warm.
Tan Huaiyu ladled out a bowl of porridge, sat down at the table, picked up a spoon, and scooped a spoonful into his mouth. The rice was cooked just right, soft, sticky, and sweet, with the unique aroma of black rice. It warmed him from his throat all the way to his stomach, as if it had also dispelled much of the fatigue and headache from a sleepless night.
He ate slowly, a mouthful of porridge, a bite of fried egg, but his mind couldn't help but imagine the scene of the morning—Qi Shuo got up early, prepared breakfast for him in the kitchen, perhaps even hesitated at the bedroom door, and finally gently pushed the door open, saw that he had kicked off the blanket, and then... covered him up again.
This thought made Tan Huaiyu's heart race even faster, and his cheeks flushed slightly. He put down his spoon, picked up his phone, opened his chat with Qi Shuo, and hovered his finger over the screen for a long time, deleting and revising before finally sending only one sentence:
[The porridge was delicious, thank you. The eggs too. Did you sleep well last night?]
After sending the message, he felt that the last question was a bit abrupt and ambiguous, and wanted to retract it, but hesitated. In the end, he simply put his phone aside and continued to drink his porridge, but he couldn't suppress the smile on his lips.
Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, bathing him in its warmth. In this simple, old house, a simple breakfast and a brief message seemed to fill the air with a comforting, homey feeling.
The phone screen went dark and then lit up again. Tan Huaiyu picked up the phone; it was Qi Shuo's reply, about half an hour later.
[Um. ]
There was only one word, and even punctuation was used sparingly.
But as Tan Huaiyu stared at the word "hmm," the smile on his lips deepened.
That was enough. For Tan Huaiyu, this was more reassuring than any flowery words. It meant that Qi Shuo had seen it and responded.
Their relationship was no longer a one-sided pursuit and probing; it began to involve a simple yet genuine interaction.
He put his phone on the table and continued to sip the lukewarm black rice porridge. He cherished every sip.
Sunlight moved across the tabletop, illuminating the fine dust particles floating in the air. Tan Huaiyu suddenly felt that this house, where he had lived alone for five years and which had held countless moments of loneliness and longing, seemed to have been infused with a new, warm vitality because of Qi Shuo's overnight stay last night and this breakfast this morning.
The air still seemed to carry the faint scent of tobacco and soap clung to Qi Shuo, mingling with the grassy aroma of his clothes to create a unique and lingering fragrance.
He ate his breakfast slowly and carefully, even scraping the last bit of porridge from the bottom of the bowl. Then he got up, took the bowl and chopsticks to the kitchen, washed them thoroughly, dried them, and put them back in their place.
As he moved, his gaze unconsciously swept over the kitchen counter, cutting board, and rice cooker—places Qi Shuo had used that morning. His fingertips brushed against the cool tile surface, as if he could still feel a trace of lingering warmth.
Having done all this, he stood in the center of the living room, looking around the familiar yet somewhat strange space. The blanket on the sofa was neatly folded by Qi Shuo and placed in a corner. Qi Shuo had slept there last night, wearing his T-shirt…
Tan Huaiyu's ears began to burn again. He shook his head, trying to dispel the inappropriate thoughts that were starting to churn again. He walked to his desk, which was piled high with documents and case files from the law firm's preparations. He took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on his work. There was still a mountain of things to deal with today; the new law firm was about to open, and he couldn't afford to indulge in personal emotions any longer.
However, as he opened the document and tried to concentrate on reading the complex legal clauses, his thoughts kept drifting away. They drifted back to last night's traffic jam, to the heavy warmth on his shoulder, to the brief message from that person he saw when he woke up this morning…
He sighed, took off his glasses, and rubbed his temples. It seemed his work efficiency was likely to be significantly reduced today.
On the other side, a brief break in the factory workshop.
Qi Shuo leaned against the wall, took off his oil-stained gloves, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. There were several unread messages on the screen, and he habitually tapped the top-pinned chat box.
It was Tan Huaiyu's reply. Besides the sentence "The porridge was delicious," there was also a photo—an empty porridge bowl and a clean plate of fried eggs, with his neatly folded T-shirt next to it.
The photos were taken casually, but the lighting was excellent, giving off a warm, tranquil, and homey feel.
Qi Shuo's gaze lingered on the photo for a few seconds, his fingertips unconsciously tracing a light path across the screen.
He could imagine the small, satisfied smile that Tan Huaiyu might have had on his lips when he took the photo. This realization stirred a very faint ripple in his heart, one that he himself was unaware of.
He closed the picture and looked at the sentence again: "Did you sleep well last night?"
Last night... the sofa was too narrow and uncomfortable to sleep on, and the presence of the person in the next room was too obvious, so he barely managed to fall asleep in the latter half of the night.
But he won't say these things.
He moved his fingers, and finally replied with only one word: [Hmm.]
send.
Then, he turned off his phone screen, put his gloves back on, and walked toward the roaring machine. The noise of the machine instantly swallowed up all the other noises, and also masked the strange, inexplicable emotion that had just risen in his heart and was quickly suppressed.
However, before plunging back into the tedious and repetitive work, his gaze seemed to unconsciously drift towards the factory gate once again, glancing very quickly.
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