[Scene Shift: City Gaming Center — 4:21 PM]
Rows of neon lights hummed in rhythm with heavy bass beats, pulsing like veins. Kids shout over racing games. In the back, one booth glows differently—no noise, just the soft clatter of keys. Game sounds filled the air — gunfire, laughter, victory jingles but Qiū Huà Bǐ wasn't here for games.
He sat in his corner booth, hoodie up, typing silently, the glow of his monitor reflecting against his pale face. The world thought he was another gamer grinding ranks. Only he knew he was grinding firewalls.
Qiū Huà Bǐ sits there, hoodie half-zipped,black headphones half-off, long hair curtaining his face. The screen reflects in his eyes: endless code lines, green and gold, blue and electric, streams of data warping through encryption barriers.
He looks calm, but his fingers move fast—too precise for "casual."
ET's cryptic messages had evolved again — more complex, more direct.
> Qiū Huà Bǐ (muttering): "Pathetic."
He muted the game sounds, drowning out the noise of stray thoughts. His fingers moved in a blur, decoding patterns, tracing signals. The more he cracked, the more it felt like someone was watching him do it.
Then — a ping.
A new message appeared on his secondary monitor:
> [Incoming Signal Detected — Unknown Source]
Trace: University Network
He frowned, eyes narrowing.
> Qiū Huà Bǐ: "Who the hell…?"
Then came a voice. Smooth, feminine, too close.
Violet: (leaning in, left side of his face)
"Did you get it yet?"
Qiū Huà Bǐ froze. His eyes flicked sideways without moving his head. The distance between them was maybe two inches—close enough to feel the warmth of her breath.
Qiū Huà Bǐ: (flat, controlled)
"Personal space is a thing."
Violet: (in a voice like a whisper)
"I prefer efficiency."
QIŪ HUÀ BǏ:
"Do you mind not breathing down my code?"
VIOLET:
(pretending to think)
"Mm… no, I don't."
He turns just enough to meet her gaze. Olive-skinned. Eyes like static before a storm.
Qiū Huà Bǐ:
"You're not supposed to be here."
Yè Yī's voice came from behind her—calm, distant.
Yè Yī:
"She doesn't really do 'supposed to.'"
Violet spun his chair around with her finger, tapping the monitor.
> Yè Yī: "She dragged me here."
Violet: "Dragged is such a strong word. I'd say guided."
Qiū Huà BǏ looks up.
Yè Yī stands at the booth entrance, half in shadow. The sight of him—unreadable, composed—sends a faint ripple through Qiū Huà BǏ's mind. He frowned. Finally, his hand drifted to mute his headphones—he didn't know why, but the static in his head went quiet when he looked at her. And him. That familiar silence. He realizes, again, he can't read either of them.
(Inner monologue)
> Two minds I can't touch. Who the hell are these people?
Qiū Huà Bǐ's hands hovered over the keyboard, defensive.
Qiū Huà Bǐ:
(coldly)
"You're not from here."
Violet:
(cocky-faced)
"Neither are you."
> Qiū Huà Bǐ: "You two should leave."
Violet hops up onto the desk, ignoring the chaos she's causing.
Violet: "You're not curious who's been trying to tag your signal?"
That made him pause.
> Qiū Huà Bǐ: "You?"
Violet: "Of course not."
She pointed to the screen — to the encrypted trail he'd been chasing for a bit of a while.
Her tone lost its playfulness, turning quiet, deliberate — like the calm before an earthquake.
QIŪ HUÀ BǏ:
"I call them spam."
VIOLET:
"Spam doesn't come with quantum encryption and self-destruct codes."
Her tone's teasing, but her eyes are sharp—calculated. Yè Yī watches silently, hands in his pockets. His gaze lands on the flickering data—his expression darkens.
YÈ YĪ:
"You think it's them."
VIOLET:
(nods)
"I don't think. I know."
Qiū Huà BǏ turns away from the computer completely.
QIŪ HUÀ BǏ:
"Who's 'them'?"
Violet looks at him, smirk completely faded just enough for her eyes to speak something heavier.
VIOLET:
"Let's just say… you've been noticed."
Beat.
QIŪ HUÀ BǏ:
"By who?"
VIOLET:
(smiling again, that unnerving mix of playfulness and dread)
"ET ."
He scowled.
> Qiū Huà Bǐ: "You sound like a lunatic."
Violet: "Maybe. But even lunatics can be right sometimes."
Then she leaned forward — eyes narrowing, voice dropping to something that almost sounded… wise.
> Violet: "So far as we're on Earth, we all live, we all walk, and we're all different… but it's more than that, isn't it? There's always someone like you — someone built wrong for the world but perfect for something else."
Silence fell.
The hum of neon and the low bass of the arcade seemed to fade under her words.
> Qiū Huà Bǐ (quietly): "...Who are you?"
Violet:
"Let's just say—we're your next level."
Yè Yī sighed beside her.
> Yè Yī: "You're terrible at introductions."
Violet: "Yeah, but it keeps things interesting."
Qiū's screen pulsed — the relay trace sharpened like a finger pointing at them.
Violet looked up at him, expression suddenly softer.
> Violet: "Ready?"
He swallowed. The three of them — accidental triangle, silent orbit — met eyes. It was the kind of look that didn't need words: consent, fear, curiosity.
> Qiū Huà BǏ: "Ready."
Violet half-smirked like she'd been waiting for this exact second.
---
[CLOSING SHOTS]
The arcade lights flicker. For a moment, the neon signs glitch—letters rearranging into digital static. Yè Yī's eyes flick upward, narrowing.
VIOLET :
"Welcome to the next level, Qiū Huà BǏ. Whether you like it or not."
The screen cuts to black, the sound of code still clattering in the dark.
---
And somewhere outside — unseen — a message transmitted from a van parked across the street:
> [Target Alpha located.]
[Proceed to engage ???....]