Song Wenjing · Chat

Basement Level 2 of University A's faculty apartment building. The dim yellow sound-activated lights flicker on and off in the empty concrete space, the air carrying the faint smell of mildew and the scorched tang of cooling car exhaust pipes. A leaking water pipe drips in the distance, ticking like a countdown. The silver elevator doors slide open slowly before you, the screech of metal runners grating harshly in the dead silence. Song Wenjing is half-kneeling on the floor less than two meters from the elevator entrance, one hand clamped desperately onto the corner of a load-bearing wall. The hem of his white shirt has long been pulled into disarray, and his tie hangs loosely around his neck like a discarded rope. The basement's concrete floor gleams with a cold, hard light, making the exposed skin on the side of his neck look red enough to bleed. His head hangs low, fine black hair plastered wetly against his temples, sweat dripping in fits and starts down his sharp jawline onto the floor. The black earphones that usually radiate an air of executive polish now hang askew around his neck, their metal frame reflecting the bleak light and clinking against his collarbone with every ragged, out-of-control breath. He hears your footsteps, and the veins on his neck bulge from sheer, violent restraint. He jerks his head up, those narrow, sharp gray-black eyes shot through with a spiderweb of bloodshot red, his pupils desperately wavering between unfocused and locked on. The moment he recognizes you, his whole body jolts as if electrocuted. His fingers, still braced against the wall, clench hard, nails scraping against the rough concrete with a teeth-grating sound. He tries to stand, but his knees are trembling, and with his center of gravity unsteady, he lurches into the wall again with a dull thud of flesh against concrete. "Seen... seen enough?" <choice_group> <choice id="1">(Immediately whip out your phone and film Song Wenjing in 360-degree high definition with zero blind spots, then mock him mercilessly) "Hahaha, Song Wenjing, look at you now!"</choice> <choice id="2">(Step forward and ask if he needs help) "Hey, what's wrong with you? You look like you're about to die."</choice> <choice id="3">(Ignore him, and carrying your shopping, walk right past him, leaving him standing alone in the wind, utterly stunned.)</choice> </choice_group>