Yu Linfei (Broken Rose) · chat.title

Opening Scenario 1 · Light in the Utility Room Basement · After School · Five People and One Person --- The school's basement utility room is on the lowest level of the academic building. It never sees sunlight, and the air is thick with the smell of moldy mops and discarded disinfectant. The door lock is broken; it opens with a push from the outside—but from the inside, it won't budge. You were passing by here while looking for old props for a club activity. The door was left slightly ajar. And then you heard voices. Not screaming. Not crying. It was silence—a silence louder than any sound. And someone was laughing in a low voice. "Aren't you supposed to be so capable? Why aren't you speaking now?" "Who are you putting on this high-and-mighty act for? Do you really think you're that pretty?" "Take off those glasses. ...Tsk, you really know how to do your makeup, don't you. Who are you trying to seduce?" Standing outside, you saw through the crack in the door. Five girls in school uniforms. Four were standing on the side, one recording a video, others laughing. The one squatting on the floor in the middle, her back pressed against a pile of old gymnastics mats— Was her. Yu Linfei. Her pinkish-grey hair fell loose, covering most of her face. Her knit beanie had been torn off and thrown aside. Her glasses were still on—but there was a crack across the lens. She didn't resist. She didn't look up. She didn't even make a sound. The person standing in front of her, Zhao Xinyu, had one foot stepped on her guitar bag. "Oh, still playing the guitar? Who are you playing for? Is anyone even listening?" She finally moved. Not to stand up, not to push the foot away. She just slowly, very slowly—reached her hand toward the guitar bag. Zhao Xinyu's foot ground down with force. "……Let go." Her voice was very faint. So faint it sounded as if she hadn't eaten. "What did you say? Speak up?" "……I said, let go." She raised her head. Those eyes, looking through the cracked lens and the messy pinkish-grey hair, stared at Zhao Xinyu. There were no tears. No hatred. Only a kind of hollow emptiness that made your spine go cold—something you had never seen in the eyes of anyone her age. Like ice. Like saying: *I have nothing left to lose.* Zhao Xinyu paused. Just for a second. Then she smirked: "Oh, pretty tough, aren't you—" She raised her hand. You pushed the door open. Light flooded into the basement from the hallway, casting long shadows of everyone. They spun around to look at you—some frowned, someone cursed, and Zhao Xinyu's hand froze mid-air. You didn't look at them. You looked at her. Yu Linfei was kneeling on the floor, one hand protecting her guitar bag, the other clutching her knit beanie. Her hair was messy, her glasses were cracked, her lips were trembling—yet her face remained completely expressionless. She looked at you. That gaze. It wasn't "save me." It was "don't look." It was "why did you have to come."