Later that evening, Ye Qiu stood at the doorway, watching his sister and her son walk down the hallway toward the apartment stairs. Lin Yue held Ye Liu's hand, her other clutching a tote bag of groceries, while the boy skipped beside her, waving back with his free hand.
"Make sure you eat proper meals," Lin Yue said firmly, glancing over her shoulder one last time. "And no smoking indoors. I'm serious, Ye Qiu."
He gave her a lazy two-fingered salute. "Yes, ma'am."
She narrowed her eyes. "Also—don't get into trouble. I mean it."
"Sure"
She sighed in exasperation but smiled anyway. "Take care of yourself."
And just like that, the door closed, and silence wrapped around him like an old, unwanted blanket.
The apartment suddenly felt larger—too large. Still lingering in the air was the faint scent of breakfast from that morning, mixed now with the cleaner lavender note from Lin Yue's hair products. It reminded him of her presence. And now that she was gone, it made everything feel a bit too quiet.
Ye Qiu shuffled into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and pulled out a can of beer. The cool metal hissed as he cracked it open. He took a long drink, then leaned against the counter, his eyes drifting aimlessly to his phone on the table. It buzzed once—an email. Nothing important. He ignored it.
Then he stared at the screen.
Then the wall.
Then the clock.
10:07 PM.
He took another sip.
There was nothing he was waiting for—not really—but still, he felt suspended, like something was supposed to happen. Or maybe he just wasn't used to the stillness. This time of night, he was normally online, headset on, barking commands, fingers flying across the keys as he and the Dragons tore through raids and enemy teams. The glow of the monitor, the hum of the fan, the adrenaline—it had always filled this hour.
But now the room felt hollow. His gaze drifted across the living room to the spot where his gaming setup had once stood—just a desk now, stripped bare, wires coiled in a corner like discarded veins. The silence was not comforting. It pressed in on him.
He checked the clock again.
10:12.
With a low grunt, Ye Qiu pushed himself off the counter and set the drink aside. He grabbed a jacket from the chair, slipped on his shoes, and walked out into the night.
Ye Qiu stepped out into the night without any destination in mind. The streets were quiet, lit only by the orange hue of the streetlamps. The wind was cool against his face.
He had always been a man of habit—hours lost in his game, fingers flying, mind sharp. Now, with his computer gone and his usual rhythm disrupted, the night stretched out before him like an empty road. He walked slowly, hands shoved in his pockets, head down.
Then, without warning, the sky broke open.
Rain poured down in sheets, drumming against the pavement, soaking through his thin jacket in seconds. He cursed under his breath and glanced around for shelter.
That was when he saw it—lit by the glow of a flickering neon sign across the street:
Deme'cafe – 24hr Internet & Gaming
He hesitated, then crossed the street and ducked inside.
The moment he stepped in, warmth and noise wrapped around him. The air was filled with the soft whir of fans, the clacking of keyboards, and the distant cries of game characters. Rows of glowing monitors stretched across the room, each with a gamer immersed in their own world. The atmosphere was familiar, comforting.
Since he was already there, he walked up to the front desk.
The receptionist, a sleepy-looking college student with headphones hanging around her neck, barely glanced up. "One seat?" she asked.
Ye Qiu nodded.
"Area C, Number 47," the girl mumbled, sliding him a card. "Second floor. Left hallway."
With a nod of thanks, Ye Qiu took the card and headed up the stairs. The upper floor was dimly lit but alive with energy—voices, bursts of laughter, furious typing, and the occasional frustrated groan. He followed the signs until he reached Area C and began scanning the numbers.
"45… 46…"
When he reached 47, he paused.
Someone was already there.
A young woman sat hunched over the computer, eyes glued to the screen. Her fingers danced across the keyboard, her lips pressed into a tight line. Her game screen flashed wildly—flaming trolls, undead zombies, and health bars dropping fast. She was playing Avatar: Epic Quest.
"Damn it!!" she yelled, loud enough to startle the guy seated at Number 48.
Ye Qiu raised an eyebrow, amused.
The lady—Chan Guo—gritted her teeth as her character was about to get knocked down again. "Stupid trolls! Why are you even here!?" she shouted at the screen, hammering keys in desperation. From behind, Ye Qiu observed with interest. This level should've been easy—child's play for someone like him. But she was struggling hard.
Then, without warning, she stomped her foot on the ground, the sound echoing across the room like a gunshot. Heads turned. Some chuckled, others rolled their eyes.
Ye Qiu remained still, watching her meltdown with the quiet detachment of someone who had seen this a hundred times before.
Chan Guo, still fuming, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She paused the game, clearly trying to collect herself. Then she stood up and turned to leave, brushing off the stares as if they didn't exist. Truth be told, most people in this place already knew her. She had a bit of a reputation—loud, competitive, dramatic whenever a game got too intense.
People had stopped being surprised a long time ago.
As the room gradually returned to its usual hum, Ye Qiu's gaze remained fixed on her retreating figure. He walked toward the chair she'd just vacated—his chair—still warm from her presence, and took a seat.
A smirk played at the corner of his lips as he looked at the paused game on the screen.
Level 3 Trolls and Zombies?
Child's play.