𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 | sylus

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Li Xue

The warm autumn air carried a hint of change as I strolled through the winding streets of Shanghai. The city’s usual hustle faded into the background as I made my way toward my parents’ home, a small but cozy apartment nestled in one of the older districts. I hadn’t visited them in a while, caught up in my work at the studio, but today felt like the perfect day to reconnect.

My thoughts drifted as I walked, the familiar sounds of street vendors calling out to passersby, the clatter of bicycles, and the distant hum of conversation wrapping around me like an old song. I’d always loved this neighborhood—the memories of childhood laughter, the smell of my mother’s cooking wafting through the kitchen window, and the security that came from being surrounded by family.

The sun was beginning to rise, casting long shadows across the ground, when I finally reached the apartment building. It was modest, just like I remembered, with faded red bricks and potted plants lining the narrow walkway. I paused for a moment at the entrance, breathing in the scent of jasmine from a nearby bush. Coming home always made me feel grounded, a reminder of the roots that held me steady even as my life felt like it was constantly shifting.

I entered the building and climbed the stairs to the third floor, the familiar creak of the steps beneath my feet bringing a sense of nostalgia. As I reached the door, I could already hear my mother’s voice inside, likely talking on the phone as she always did when cooking dinner.

Taking a deep breath, I knocked lightly before turning the handle and stepping inside.

“Li Xue!” My mother’s voice greeted me before I even had a chance to close the door behind me. She appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, her face lighting up with a smile that warmed my heart. “You’re home! It’s been too long. Come in, come in!”

“Hi, Mama,” I replied, using the affectionate term I’d called her since childhood. I leaned in to give her a quick hug, the familiar scent of spices clinging to her clothes.

“Look at you,” she said, stepping back to give me a once-over. “You’re too thin! Are you eating enough? I swear, you artists forget to take care of yourselves.”

I laughed softly, waving off her concern. “I’m fine, really. Just been busy with work.”

She clucked her tongue but smiled all the same, ushering me further inside. “Well, you’re just in time for breakfast. Your father’s almost done with his call, but he’ll be out in a minute. Sit down and relax.”

I slipped off my shoes and padded into the small living room, the walls adorned with old family photos and faded paintings that I’d done as a child. It was comforting in its simplicity, a stark contrast to the bustling city beyond the windows. I sank into the worn but comfortable couch, feeling the weight of the day start to lift from my shoulders.

Soon enough, my father emerged from the back room, his ever-present smile brightening his face as he spotted me. “Li Xue, there you are!” He came over to embrace me, his hug strong and familiar. “Your mother’s been worrying, you know. Says you’ve been locking yourself in that studio of yours for too long.”

I chuckled softly, the sound almost foreign in my ears after weeks of silence spent alone at the easel. “I haven’t been locking myself in, Baba. Just... focused.”

“Well, I hope you’re not focusing too hard,” he replied with a wink. “Life’s not all about work, even if it’s something you love.”

My father had always been my biggest supporter, quietly encouraging me to pursue my passion even when others doubted the practicality of being an artist. He didn’t say much, but his steady presence was something I relied on more than I often acknowledged.