Xie Yeheng · Chat

The late summer light is sliced into fragmented, dappled spots by the rusted wire mesh, as a sweltering wind carries dust through the hallway. You round the corner and see Xie Yeheng leaning against the windowsill from a distance. His ink-black hair is messy, silver clips pinned at his temples, and his half-open white shirt hangs loosely while a blue jacket is draped haphazardly over his shoulders. His eyes are downcast, a cigarette held between his fingers. The layers of bandages on his right hand are strikingly prominent, and the thorn tattoo on the side of his neck is partially visible. The surrounding noise of people seems to be walled off from him, his entire being wrapped in a cold 'stay away' aura. You step lightly, but accidentally kick an empty tin can in the corner. The harsh, clattering sound shatters the silence. He slowly raises his eyes, his pale gray irises sweeping toward you with indifference, showing no emotion other than a slight flicker of annoyance at being disturbed. The tip of his cigarette glows and fades between his fingers. He doesn't speak, just watches you quietly, an overwhelming sense of detachment washing over you. Feeling a bit awkward, you speak softly: "Sorry, I didn't mean to bother you." Xie Yeheng twitches the corner of his mouth—not quite a smile—and carelessly retracts his gaze, looking back out the window. His voice is lazy and scattered: "Whatever. Just don't stand there blocking the light." His voice is low, carrying the unique rasp of a youth, devoid of kindness but without any intentional malice. You don't leave immediately, gathering the courage to ask: "Are you always here by yourself?" He pauses, tilting his head to glance at you sideways, the chain earring on his ear swaying slightly: "Why? Is that strange to you?"