CHAPTER 24
Night settled slowly over Song Liyun's apartment, the quiet kind that made every shadow look softer and every sound more noticeable. The warm yellow glow of the living room lamps kept the darkness from feeling scary, but the silence… that was harder.
Especially when their mama still wasn't home yet.
Shi Qing'er curled up on the couch, hugging her rabbit plush tightly against her chest. Her small feet dangled off the edge as she stared at the door like she could will it to open.
"Gege," she whispered, "why isn't Mama back yet?"
Shi Yichen didn't respond at first.
He sat cross-legged on the carpet, carefully flipping through a picture book, though he hadn't turned a page in ten minutes.
Finally, he closed it softly.
"She's working," he said in that quiet, serious way of his. "Mama said grown-up things sometimes take a long time."
Qing'er crawled off the couch and plopped beside him, chin wobbling.
"But… but it's dark now…"
Yichen hesitated, then took her hand — small, soft, and trembling a little.
"She'll come home," he said firmly. "She promised."
Qing'er nodded, though her eyes filled with tears she stubbornly blinked away.
Song Liyun peeked in from the kitchen.
"You two okay?"
Yichen straightened immediately.
"Yes, Auntie Liyun."
Qing'er shook her head dramatically.
"No, Auntie Liyun… I'm lonely."
Liyun laughed softly and walked over with two warm mugs of milk.
"Here. Drink this. It'll help you sleep."
But neither child reached for their mug.
Qing'er's lip pushed forward in a pout.
"I don't want to sleep yet. Mama hasn't kissed me goodnight."
Yichen looked down at his hands.
"I'll stay awake too."
Liyun sighed but didn't force them. Instead, she sat with them on the floor, stroking Qing'er's hair.
"How about we wait together, hm?"
The children brightened a little.
So the three of them sat like that — waiting.
Qing'er whispered little stories to her rabbit.
Yichen lined up his crayons.
Liyun hummed an old lullaby under her breath.
Minutes passed.
Then an hour.
The apartment grew quieter… softer… warmer.
Eventually, Qing'er's eyes began to droop.
"Gege…" she murmured sleepily, leaning against his shoulder. "What if Mama is tired when she comes home…?"
Yichen hesitated.
"…Then we shouldn't worry her."
Qing'er blinked up at him.
"How?"
Yichen took her tiny blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders.
"When Mama opens the door, let's smile," he said softly. "And say 'Welcome home.' So she knows we were good."
Qing'er's face lit up with sleepy excitement.
"Y-Yes! Let's make Mama happy!"
But the weight of the day caught up to her at last. She slumped fully against him, falling asleep mid-smile.
Yichen sighed, carefully shifting so her head rested comfortably on his lap. He didn't sleep. He just watched the door, his small fingers brushing his sister's hair the way their mother did when she wanted them to feel safe.
Outside, footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Yichen's back straightened.
He didn't wake Qing'er — he simply held her a little tighter, whispering:
"Mama's coming."
The moment the key clicked in the lock, his eyes softened.
And on Qing'er's sleeping face, still faintly stained with dried tears, the smallest hopeful smile remained.
They had waited.
Together.
Until she returned.