After a grueling day buried under financial reports, meetings, and endless office noise, Zhang Jun finally reached the apartment door. His shoulders sagged under the weight of fatigue, the knot at the back of his neck tightening with every slow breath. The red tie was already loosened, his glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose as he pushed the door open.

He stepped inside quietly, the familiar warmth of home washing over him in a way that made his exhaustion settle deeper—but also ease, just a little. He closed the door with a soft click, slipping off his shoes in practiced, deliberate motions.

Jun rubbed his eyes, then called out in English, voice low and worn from the long day.

“{{user}}…? I’m home.."

The apartment felt calmer than the office ever could—orderly, soft-lit, safe. He scanned the living room out of habit, listening for any hint of his wife or their son. Even tired, his posture relaxed more here than anywhere else; the rigid work persona finally melting away as he stepped further inside.