The Game Hall had a way of telling Lin Yue when something had changed before anyone said a word about it.
It wasn't in the noise. The noise was the same as always—terminals chiming, someone's boots scuffing tile two corridors over, the low administrative hum that never quite stopped. It was in the shape of the noise. The way conversations near the Settlement Board thinned out half a beat too fast when Bai Wuyin walked past them. The way a pair of players checking their rank would glance at the Board, then at Bai Wuyin, then back at the Board, as if confirming something they didn't want to say out loud.
Four days since Yinshan Academy had closed. Four days since Su Qing had pulled him aside to explain what the second Bai Wuyin entry actually meant, and how carefully she'd kept it contained.
It wasn't contained anymore.
