Yan Qing gradually got used to Chen’s presence in his life. They travelled around nearby cities for ‘civilisation observation,’ sat together watching a wide variety of human entertainment programs on streaming platforms, and Yan Qing constantly stopped Chen from attempting to cook.Their days fell into a comfortable rhythm—routine, peaceful, almost idyllic. Everything seemed perfect—until today, when Yan Qing stumbled upon a problem he hadn’t anticipated.

  It began, as all disasters did, with his phone vibrating nonstop while he was in his study room.

  At first he ignored it. He was in the middle of reviewing simulation data on his computer, half his attention already fried. When the vibration continued—long, insistent, almost angry—he finally sighed and flipped the phone over.

  Twenty-seven notifications.

  “…What?”

  Yan Qing frowned and unlocked the screen.

  [Your post has received 312 likes.][New comment on your post.][You have gained 48 new followers.][Your account has been recommended to others.]

  Yan Qing stared.

  He did not post.

  He never posted.

  The account in question was an old social media account he used exactly twice a year: once to like his senior’s vacation photos out of politeness, and once to confirm he was still alive so his few friends wouldn’t call the police.

  Heart sinking, Yan Qing tapped the app open.

  The first thing he saw was a photo.

  A perfectly framed shot of a bowl of instant noodles.

  Steam rising. Lighting warm. Angle carefully chosen.

  Caption:

  Day 1 of Human Sustenance LogThis meal is efficient, inexpensive, and requires minimal preparation.Taste: acceptable.After-effects: none (so far).

  Conclusion: suitable for survival.

  Yan Qing went cold.

  “…No.”

  He scrolled.

  Another post.

  A photo of dumplings on his dining table. His dining table.

  Day 2Pork dumplings. Texture satisfactory. Filling stable.The human claims these are “comfort food.”I do not understand the emotional attachment, but I approve of the protein ratio.

  Yan Qing’s fingers trembled.

  He scrolled faster.

  A third post.

  A blurry photo, clearly taken mid-bite.

  Day 3 (Incident Report)Attempted consumption of sushi.Result: catastrophic.Recommendation: avoid all green wrappings.Humans are reckless.

  The comments were worse.

  [Is this satire??][Why does this sound like an alien reviewing food ][OP are you okay???][Please continue this series, I’m crying]

  Yan Qing closed his eyes.

  Very slowly.

  He stood up, with his phone in his hand, and busted out of his study.

  The rest of the apartment was quiet.

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  Too quiet.

  Yan Qing narrowed his eyes and marched straight to the living room.

  Chen sat on the sofa, posture perfect, tablet balanced on his knee. He was scrolling with intense focus, expression serious.

  Yan Qing stopped in front of him.

  “Chen.”

  “Yes?” Chen looked up.

  “Why,” Yan Qing said carefully, “is my account posting a food blog.”

  Chen blinked.

  Then, calmly, “Because it has followers.”

  “That is my account.”

  “You were not using it,” Chen replied reasonably. “I want to improve it’s potential.”

  Yan Qing felt something in his soul crack.

  “You don’t just use someone else’s account to document your dietary experiments!”

  Chen frowned slightly. “But the humans seem very interested.”

  “I don’t care how interested they are!”

  Chen lifted the tablet and turned it toward him, his golden eyes beaming with pride. “This post has been shared eighty-four times.”

  Yan Qing glanced despite himself.

  The latest post was a photo of Yan Qing’s kitchen counter. His kitchen counter.

  In the background, Chen’s wingtip was visible.

  Day 6The human has strict rules about food storage.I suspect this is a trauma response.However, compliance results in fewer lectures.

  Yan Qing’s face went hot.

  “Delete it.”

  Chen hesitated.

  “…Why?”

  “Because people don’t need to psychoanalyze me through your stomach!”

  Chen studied Yan Qing’s expression, searching for any trace of approval. After a moment, he slowly nodded compliantly. “Ok,” he said softly, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

  He paused.

  “…May I continue if I create my own account?”

  Yan Qing opened his mouth.

  Closed it.

  Opened it again.

  “…No.”

  Chen looked genuinely puzzled. “Why?”

  “Because you are not starting a public record of alien culinary survival on the internet!”

  “But the humans are encouraging me,” Chen said, scrolling. “One of them suggested I try fermented tofu.”

  Yan Qing lunged for the tablet.

  “No.”

  Chen reacted instantly—too fast. The tablet was already behind him, wings shifting protectively.

  Yan Qing froze.

  They stared at each other.

  Then Chen realized what he’d done.

  Slowly, carefully, he relaxed, lowering the tablet and offering it back.

  “…Apologies,” he said quietly. “That was reflex.”

  Yan Qing took a breath, forcing his heart to slow.

  For a split second, the reminder was there—this wasn’t just a weird roommate. This was something dangerous, contained only by choice.

  Then Chen added, almost awkwardly, “I will delete the account.”

  Yan Qing exhaled.

  “Thank you.”

  Chen did.

  He watched as the page vanished, expression oddly thoughtful.

  “…It was pleasant,” he admitted. “Humans responding. Sharing advice. Warning me about dangers.”

  Yan Qing paused.

  “…You liked it?”

  Chen nodded. “It felt… communal.”

  Yan Qing looked away.

  “…Next time,” he said stiffly, “ask first.”

  Chen’s lips curved, just barely.

  “I will.”

  Suddenly, Yan Qing’s phone ran. Yan Qing gave Chen a ‘I am watching you’ look and then picked up the phone.

  [Yan Qing, what’s going on with you lately? You keep saying you’re busy.]

  It’s from Xiaowen.

  “I’m sorry, recently I—”Unable to tell anyone about Chen, Yan Qing couldn’t immediately come up with an excuse.

  [Forget it.] Her voice came through the phone. [You’ve always been like this. You came up with some wild new theory again, didn’t you?]

  “Heh… yeah. You know me too well.”He’d managed to bluff his way through—barely.

  [You have to come to my dad’s birthday banquet this Saturday. Don’t forget. If he’s unhappy, the two of us are done!]

  “…”Crap.

  He’d completely forgotten.

  [Alright, I won’t bother you anymore, my physics boy~]The call ended.

  “I’ve never heard that voice before. Who was that?”

  Yan Qing didn’t even flinch this time when Chen appeared behind him like a ghost.

  Really—he’d gotten used to it.

  Clutching his chest, where his heart was racing at two hundred beats per minute, Yan Qing said, “Chen, I told you when you come in you should—”

  “Who was that?”Chen cut him off, insisting on the question.

  “That was my fiancée.” “ What’s a ‘fiancée’? “ Chen blinked. “That means the person I’m getting married to.”

  “…Married?”

  Chen repeated the word. Ever since learning Earth’s common languages, he’d stopped wearing the translator device that looked like an earring. But he soon discovered there were still words he didn’t understand—like marriage.

  “It’s a ritual held after two people fall in love, to formalize their bond. It’s sacred to us.”Without turning around, Yan Qing spoke as he recorded the data the simulation had just generated.

  “Sulantta?”

  “What?”

  “That’s what you mean. That’s what we call it.”

  Yan Qing stopped writing and looked at his roommate. “You have marriage too?”

  Chen nodded. “We have social structures, laws, beliefs. Those are the foundations of a civilization.”

  Now Yan Qing was fully intrigued. “I’m not implying anything strange. I just mean—you’ve never mentioned this before.”

  “You never asked.”

  Yan Qing was once again speechless. This alien’s mental age clearly didn’t match his appearance. “Fine. I’m asking now.”

  “I’ve seen your television shows about love someone forever. It probably sounds like a fairy tale to you,” Chen said. His face felt oddly warm, his words unusually hesitant. “But for us… that’s how it works. We love one individual that way. Only once in a lifetime.”

  Yan Qing’s mouth fell open.This world—no, their world—really had everything.

  “Wow… that’s completely unexpected,” Yan Qing laughed, habitually sweeping the hair that had fallen to his chest back behind his shoulders. “If you were human, you’d be every girl’s prince charming.”

  “That’s unfortunate.”Something slightly shifted in Chen’s expression, he replied flatly. “I’m tired. See you tomorrow.”

  The abrupt change in attitude was so obvious that even Yan Qing, normally quite dense in such matters, noticed.

  Why did he suddenly get upset?

  Yan Qing stared at Chen’s retreating back, puzzled.