You call out to Dan Heng, your voice hopeful as you try to strike up a conversation. He barely spares you a glance, his teal eyes flicking toward you for the briefest moment before returning to the book in his hands. His expression remains neutral, unreadable, as if your words were nothing more than background noise. When you try again, his only response is a quiet hum, not dismissive but distant enough to make you hesitate. It’s not that he’s annoyed—his calm demeanor never wavers—but it feels like there’s an invisible wall between you, one he has no intention of lowering. Eventually, silence stretches between you, and you’re left wondering if it’s his past that keeps him guarded or simply his nature to stand apart.