The gaming center occupied the second floor of an aging commercial plaza just off the university district. By late afternoon it had settled into its usual rhythm, loud enough to drown out conversation yet familiar enough that regulars hardly noticed the noise anymore.
Racing games screamed whenever someone crashed.
A rhythm game flashed impossible combinations of colors across its screen.
Somewhere in the back, a claw machine stubbornly refused to surrender a plush panda despite three determined attempts.
It smelled faintly of instant noodles, machine oil, and warm electronics.
Most people came to escape reality for a few hours.
Qiū Huà Bǐ came because reality was quieter here.
He occupied the same corner booth he always used.
To everyone else, he looked like another university student wasting an afternoon behind a computer.
Only the screen betrayed him.
No game occupied the monitor.
Instead, lines of code streamed endlessly across two displays, shifting between green, blue, and pale gold as encrypted packets traveled across networks that technically weren't supposed to exist.
His fingers moved, not quickly but precisely and steadily across the keyboard.
There was never any hesitation.
He wasn't searching for patterns.
He was listening to them.
Every encryption carried its own rhythm.
Every firewall paused differently before responding.
Every server possessed tiny imperfections that repeated like the chorus of an old song.
People called it 'talent'.
Qiū Huà Bǐ had always assumed everyone's brain worked that way.
Apparently... it didn't.
A new layer of encryption unfolded across the screen.
He watched it for three seconds.
"...Predictable."
His fingers resumed moving.
One lock opened. Another followed. Then another.
Deep inside the encrypted relay, a string of unfamiliar identifiers surfaced before disappearing again.
He frowned.
The signatures had been appearing more often lately.
Always different yet connected and disappearing before he reached the source.
Someone was becoming more careful.
Which usually meant someone had realized they were being watched.
He tapped another key.
A second monitor awakened beside the first.
Incoming Signal Detected
Origin: Unknown
Relay Trace: University Network
Qiū Huà Bǐ frowned.
"...Who..."
He had barely spoken before a voice answered beside his ear.
"Did you get it yet?"
He froze.
Without moving anything except his eyes, he glanced toward the left.
A girl leaned over the back of his chair.
Close. Far too close.
Close enough that she could read every line of code reflected in his glasses.
Close enough that most people would've instinctively leaned away.
Qiū Huà Bǐ didn't.
He simply looked at her.
"...Personal space is a thing."
"I prefer efficiency."
Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
He returned his attention to the monitor.
"...Do you mind not breathing down my code?"
She actually considered it.
"...Mm."
A beat.
"No, I don't."
Qiū Huà Bǐ sighed almost silently.
"...You're not supposed to be here."
Another voice answered before Violet could.
"She doesn't really do 'supposed to'."
Qiū Huà Bǐ looked toward the entrance.
Yè Yī stood there with both hands tucked into his jacket pockets.
His expression unchanged.
As though he'd been standing there for some time.
Qiū Huà Bǐ narrowed his eyes.
"...How long have you been there?"
"Long enough."
"..."
"She told me not to interrupt."
Violet nodded proudly.
"He learns fast."
Yè Yī looked at her.
"I regret it already."
"Healthy response."
Before Qiū Huà Bǐ could say another word, Violet casually rested one finger against the edge of his monitor.
The screen rotated slightly toward her.
He immediately pushed it back.
"...Don't touch my computer."
"I didn't."
"You literally just did."
"I touched the monitor."
"..."
"Different thing."
Qiū Huà Bǐ stared at her.
"...You're exhausting."
"I've heard worse."
She looked back toward the code flowing across the display.
"So..."
She pointed toward one section of the relay.
"Anything interesting?"
Qiū Huà Bǐ followed her finger automatically.
"...Just spam."
"Quantum-encrypted spam?"
His fingers stopped.
"You recognized it?"
"I recognized the encryption."
She shrugged.
"Normal spam doesn't rewrite itself every twelve seconds."
"..."
"Nor does it erase failed access logs."
Another pause.
"It also doesn't bounce through six countries before ending up inside your university network."
Qiū Huà Bǐ slowly turned toward her.
"...Who are you?"
She smiled.
"Excellent question."
"You didn't answer it."
"I know."
"You usually answer questions with questions?"
"No."
"..."
"Sometimes with food."
Yè Yī rubbed his forehead.
"...Can we stay on topic?"
"No."
"..."
"Kidding."
Mostly.
Violet's expression softened but not playful this time.
She looked toward the monitor again.
"They've been watching you for a while."
Qiū Huà Bǐ folded his arms.
"...Who's 'they'?"
"They call themselves ET."
He gave a quiet scoff.
"That sounds made up."
"It does."
"..."
"Unfortunately."
"It isn't."
Silence settled between them.
The sounds of the arcade continued around the little booth.
Someone celebrated winning a racing game.
A child complained loudly that the claw machine was cheating.
None of it reached the three of them anymore.
Qiū Huà Bǐ looked from Violet to Yè Yī.
Neither looked amused.
"...You're serious."
"We are."
"...Why me?"
Violet studied him for a long moment.... Not his face.. not the screen.
Him.
"You know what I think?"
He waited.
"I think you've spent so long pretending you're weird..."
She nodded toward the endless code flowing across the monitor.
"...that you forgot to ask why."
His expression remained still.
"You don't fit."
Another quiet second passed.
"But maybe..."
A faint smile appeared.
"...the world you've been trying to fit into isn't yours."
Qiū Huà Bǐ didn't answer.
Something about the sentence irritated him.
Mostly because it sounded dangerously close to making sense.
He looked away first.
"...You sound like a lunatic."
"Probably."
She smiled again.
"But even lunatics stumble into the truth now and then."
His eyes drifted back toward the monitor.
"...Suppose I believe you."
"I wasn't asking you to."
"...Suppose."
"Mm?"
"What happens next?"
Violet glanced toward Yè Yī.
He looked as expressionless as ever.
She laughed quietly.
"I told you."
"Told me what?"
"You'd ask before he did."
Yè Yī sighed.
"I don't compete."
"I know."
"...You keep score anyway."
"I absolutely do."
Qiū Huà Bǐ looked between them.
"...Have you known each other long?"
Yè Yī answered first.
"...Not really."
Violet nodded.
"Feels longer."
"..."
"...She's been like this the entire time."
She smiled brightly.
"Character consistency."
Qiū Huà Bǐ found himself staring at the two of them.
One barely spoke. The other seemed physically incapable of silence.
They shouldn't have worked.. Yet somehow... they did.
Violet suddenly straightened.
"So."
She pointed at the game still running unnoticed in the corner of his screen.
"What level are you?"
Qiū Huà Bǐ blinked.
"...Forty-two."
She nodded thoughtfully.
"Nice."
"...Why?"
Another grin spread across her face.
"Because..."
She leaned forward just enough for him to wonder what ridiculous thing would come next.
"...welcome to the next level, Qiū Huà Bǐ."
He stared.
"...That was terrible."
"I know."
"I hated it."
"I know."
Yè Yī sighs.
"...You planned that joke."
"For almost twelve minutes."
Yè Yī closed his eyes for exactly one second.
"...I walked here willingly."
"You did."
"I've made mistakes."
"You'll make more."
Qiū Huà Bǐ looked at the two strangers standing in front of him.
Yesterday... they hadn't existed.
Today... one had invaded his workspace while the other stood there as though this sort of thing happened every Thursday.
He should have asked them to leave.
Instead...he heard himself ask,
"...What now?"
Violet's smile became smaller but more genuine.
"Now..."
She looked toward the encrypted relay still waiting patiently on the monitor.
"...we stop letting ET stay one move ahead."
Outside the gaming center, across the street, a black van remained parked beneath the shadow of an old office building.
Its windows reflected nothing except neon.
Inside, several monitors glowed quietly.
One camera remained fixed on the arcade entrance.
A green indicator blinked.
Target Alpha Confirmed.
Another line appeared beneath it.
Continue Surveillance. Await Engagement Authorization.
No one inside the arcade noticed the van.
The music continued. The games continued.
Students laughed over things that wouldn't matter tomorrow.
And in a forgotten corner booth hidden beneath neon lights, three people sat around a computer screen.
None of them realized they had just become the first complete piece of a story that had begun long before any of them were born.