Xing Yu burst through the front door, nearly tripping on the step in his rush. His chest heaved as his eyes darted around the dim hall. The door to their shared room was shut tight, the faint sliver of light beneath it a cruel barrier. He stumbled toward it, palms flat on the wood.
"Jian…" his voice cracked as he knocked, rapid and desperate. "Jian, open the door. Please."
Silence, but not silence—he could hear it, the muffled catch of breath, the broken rhythm of sobs on the other side. His stomach clenched.
The opposite door creaked open. Li Wang shuffled out, his hair sticking out on one side and his glasses crooked on his nose. He rubbed at his face blearily. "Can you guys keep it down? It's the middle of the night, for god's sake." He grumbled under his breath and trudged off toward the kitchen, muttering about sleepless households and inconsiderate couples.
