The silence that followed the announcement was not the silence of pause or hesitation.
It was the silence of a held breath that ten thousand lungs had drawn simultaneously and could not find a way to release.
Lin Yue stood in the doorway of his room, one hand still resting on the frame. Behind him, Bai Wuyin had not moved from the chair. The sketchbook was closed on his lap, and the pencil was still.
In the corridor, every person who had been mid-motion had simply stopped.
A player three doors down had been carrying two cups of water back from the station. Both cups were still raised, suspended between the station and wherever he'd been going, held in hands that no longer remembered their destination.
The chime of the terminal screens continued, faint and indifferent. No one was looking at them.
Lin Yue released the doorframe and stepped fully into the corridor.
"Lin Yue," said Bai Wuyin quietly, from inside the room.
"I heard it," Lin Yue said.
