The ceiling light in the abandoned e-sports hall had long been cut off, leaving only an emergency light lingering in the corner, illuminating the dust-covered keyboard and the crooked back of the chair. Shen Zhao squatted in the corner, holding the end of the bandage with his fingers, and slowly pulled off one layer. The old scars were green and white, and the knuckles were raised, like branches that had been broken off and then sewn back together. She didn't look at herself in the mirror, nor at the barrage. The live button is black with polished edges. When she pressed it, her right hand didn't move, and her left hand trembled, as if being hit by electricity.
