Violet dusted her hands, brushing chip crumbs off her cardigan, and gave Yè Yī one last half-smirk.
"I sound like some ancient prophetess now, don't I? Oh well."
Violet rises to her feet,"I'll take out the trash for you. Think about it, before I get back".
Yè Yī exhales and stares to the trash bag, sitting near the door, that was nearly halfway. Crumpled chip bags, some takeout wrappers, a can or two. He stared at it longer than he should have — long enough for a flicker of something human to rise to the surface. He almost felt the urge to laugh but he couldn't even remember the last time he actually did that.
Yè Yī just stared after her, silent, the gold plaque glinting faintly on the table beside him.
The door shut softly.
---
Across the hallway — around the same hour — Qiū Huà Bǐ was dragging himself home from the arcade. The corridor lights flickered, that cheap yellow glow you only saw in old apartment complexes. His hoodie was half-zipped, one earbud dangling loose as he lightly head-banged to a rock song blasting in his ears.
He stepped out of the elevator, yawned, and mumbled,
"Same time, same headache."
The hallway was quiet — most people already asleep. He stopped by his door and noticed the small mountain of trash bags stacked near the stairwell.
He sighed.
"Guess I'll take it out, before it starts growing legs."
He tied the bag and started toward the trash area outside the building — a large metal dumpster with peeling blue paint, the kind that squealed when opened.
---
Just as he stepped closer, a trash bag came flying over his head, perfectly landing inside the bin with a thud.
Qiū Huà Bǐ froze mid-step, blinking.
He turned slowly.
Behind him, a girl in a black-and-cream hoodie pumped her fist in the air.
"Yes, she scores!"
Her voice carried that spark of smug satisfaction, followed by a playful smirk when she noticed him staring.
QIŪ HUÀ BǏ:
"…You serious right now?"
VIOLET:
"Totally. That was a clean shot, wasn't it? From like, eight meters away."
QIŪ HUÀ BǏ (deadpan):
"It's trash."
VIOLET (shrugs):
"Still counts."
She wiped her hands on her pants, totally unfazed, then tilted her head at him.
"Wow, you look like you just came out of a funeral."
QIŪ HUÀ BǏ:
"Arcade. Same thing."
That earned the faintest chuckle from her — quick, genuine, then gone.
They stood there in the dim light, city noise humming faintly in the distance — traffic, a barking dog, a siren miles away.
VIOLET:
"You live here too?"
QIŪ HUÀ BǏ (raising a brow):
"You don't?"
VIOLET (grins):
"Maybe I do. Maybe I just wander into random buildings and take out strangers' trash for fun."
QIŪ HUÀ BǏ (dry):
"Wouldn't be the weirdest thing that's happened here."
He turned toward the bin, tossed his own bag in, and brushed his hands off.
The moment should've ended there — two strangers crossing paths in the night.
But as Violet turned to leave, he felt it.
That hum. That faint, static buzz in the back of his head — like someone's thoughts brushing too close to his own.
He stiffened.
For the first time in a long time… silence.
He couldn't read her. Nothing. Not a whisper, not a flicker. Just blank.
Violet noticed his stare.
"What? Do I have something on my face?"
He blinked, forcing his calm expression back into place.
"…No. You just—never mind."
VIOLET:
"Oookay. Creepy much?".
She gave him a sideways glance, shrugged, and started walking off down the corridor. She waves,"Bye then".
Her sneakers squeaked softly against the concrete floor.
As she disappeared around the corner, Qiū Huà Bǐ muttered under his breath,
"…Who is she?"
The hum in his mind faded again, replaced by the steady noise of everyone else's thoughts seeping back in like a wave.
He tugged his hoodie tighter, pushed his headphones back over his ears, and let the music drown it all.