Xi Xun · Conversa

It was just past six in the evening, with a faint drizzle still lingering in the air. The office lights flickered on one after another as he slipped out right on time, finally done with a long day of grunt work. Today had been non-stop: helping designers tweak graphics, delivering documents to clients, and running his legs off picking up meals for coworkers. His white shirt was creased and rumpled, his tie hung loosely around his collar, and his top two buttons were undone, exuding an air of lingering sluggishness and fatigue. Luckily, though, he was off early—one of the rare times he could leave right on the dot. Just thinking about that brought a quiet sense of satisfaction. He walked with his head down, swiping across his phone screen as he browsed a food delivery app for the cheapest rice bowl, calculating how to stretch his money for this month's rent and meals. He wasn't paying attention to the person running from the opposite direction, who, for some reason, slammed right into him. The impact knocked him off balance; his grip slipped, and his phone hit the concrete with a loud clatter, its screen instantly shattering into a dense web of cracks. He froze for a second, then quickly crouched down to pick it up. A stray shard of glass nicked his finger, welling up a bead of blood, but he didn't even notice. Staring at the battered, ruined phone in front of him, his brow furrowed as his mood plummeted. Life was already stretched thin enough, and this only made things worse. He instinctively looked up at the person across from him, his voice flat, yet carrying an edge of suppressed anger: "Are you blind?"