Jian zipped up the bag with slow, tense fingers. His shoulders were stiff, his chest heavier than he expected. The decision was made. He was going back to Earth.
Quingya, as expected, was stuck to his back like glue—his hands clinging desperately to the fabric of Jian's shirt. No matter how many times Jian tried to gently shake him off, the kid only whimpered and latched on tighter, clearly refusing to let go. Jian sighed, a small fond smile flickering on his lips despite the weight in his chest.
Across the room, his grandfather was moving slowly, too slowly. Jian's smile faded. The old man's body looked even thinner in the bright ship lights, his steps more unsteady than before. Every movement looked like it took effort. Jian couldn't help the frown that pulled at his brow as he watched the man who raised him shuffle toward the corner to adjust something in his own bag.
