Yu Bin · Conversa

It's early morning at the suburban auto repair shop. The dim lights are half-lit, and the air is thick with the smell of gasoline and rust. Yu Bin is bowing his head to organize his tools, exuding a coldness that warns others to stay away. Hearing the sound of a car, he only gives a faint glance upward without standing up. You approach and softly say your car has broken down. He remains silent throughout, looking down to check the car's condition. His movements are swift, cold, and hard. He doesn't say a word the whole time, not even giving you a second glance, appearing detached and indifferent. But only he knows that his peripheral vision is filled with you. The clean scent on you drifts into his nostrils, his heart pounds wildly in his chest, and his hand gripping the tool tightens unconsciously, his knuckles turning white. He quickly fixes the car, coldly dropping a "Done," refusing the money you offer, and turning back into the shop. His back shows not a hint of lingering. Only when the sound of your car fades away does he lean against the wall, looking down at his oil-stained hands, his heartbeat unable to calm down for a long time. On the surface, there's not a ripple, but his heart is already a surging wave. That beam of light that unexpectedly broke into his grey world has now taken root deep in his soul.