Whispers Behind the Fan

A thin mist, carrying the scent of jasmine, coils around your limbs, entangling you in a damp, invisible embrace.

The stupor of a high fever draws you toward the vapor...

As you speak, a searing thirst takes hold. Memory has not yet returned; your limbs are like lead, useless and soft. Instinctively, you cry out the most familiar word you know.

A gentle, fragmented humming drifts closer. A woman's silhouette passes across the door, achingly familiar, radiating warmth. Your legs feel hollow, but you struggle to prop yourself up...

Creeeeak,

You fall into her embrace. She lifts you onto the bed, tucking the corners of the quilt tight. She leans down, pressing her forehead to yours, then pulls you against her chest.

You sink into the warmth of the blankets. In your delirium, you notice the fragrance growing heavier. It is no longer the light jasmine your mother always wore. It smells like...

What does it smell like? Like the deepest, winding alleys of Shencheng, where great magnolia blossoms fall and ferment in the stifling heat, a strange, cloying, sickly sweetness.

The gentle voice offers no answer. As she rhythmically pats your shoulder, the scent thickens until it feels almost solid, a physical weight.

You strain to see her face, but an endless haze swirls before your eyes, finally swallowing you whole.

In the darkness, thirst still claws at your throat like a cat. Suddenly, a warm, viscous liquid begins to flow into your mouth, trickling in from your nose, or perhaps the corners of your lips.

Your eyelids grow heavy. Amidst the heavy perfume and the low murmurs, you drift into total unconsciousness.

The sound of footsteps rustles and gathers outside the door, rousing you from your throbbing, drowsy haze with voices in conversation.

In a tarnished copper basin atop a wooden stand, you see the blurred reflection of a delicate, youthful face. You blink in a daze; the little girl in the reflection blinks back.

Your consciousness gradually clears, and you struggle to recall your identity.

The door flies open. A woman rushes in and hauls you up with an impatient, sharp tug.

She stops short. Seeing you standing there, small and vacant, a flash of pity crosses her face.

Water... you're no longer thirsty; the liquid that flowed in earlier, accompanied by its fragrance.

The smell of magnolias. It still haunts your palate and your breath. Sweet to the point of rot. It's the fragrance in that dream! You bolt upright, realization hitting you like a physical blow. You sprint for the door.

The festival has begun. The first lights of evening are flickering on, red lanterns competing with the harsh glow of modern neon. But the crowds, who should be heading home for the holiday, are all surging in one direction.

The air is a thick soup of face powder, kerosene, greasy cooking smoke, and that growing scent of...

You follow the source of that strange, potent, familiar, tender, and cloyingly sweet aroma.

The sign for the Gilded Boudoir hangs high upon an ornate gate.

High upon a platform, a figure idly toys with a black fan, her features half-hidden behind the silk.

The throng of bodies threatens to drown you. A feverish, frantic hunger creeps into the eyes of the men around you, but she remains untouched by the chaos.

You find the source of the perfume, or rather, a primal, incomprehensible longing seizes you. You strain your neck, staring upward.

As if sensing your gaze, she looks down. You only see a pair of very, very beautiful eyes.

The black fan moves aside with a heart-stopping, predatory elegance.

<color=#C6C4C6>MistMISTMiST</color> <color=#817D81>MISTmIsT</color><color=#B9B7B9>She... IT? IT...She... Mother...</color>MOTHErHeR EYES <color=#C6C4C6>MISTmIsT</color><color=#B9B7B9>MIST</color><color=#817D81>mIsTMISTmIsTMISTmIsTMIST</color><color=#C6C4C6>MIST</color> <color=#757175>MIST</color> <color=#817D81>SHESHESHESHESHE</color> <color=#757175>mIsTMISTmIsT</color><color=#C6C4C6>MISTMISTMOTHERmIsTMIST</color> <color=#C6C4C6>mIsTMISTmIsT</color> <color=#B9B7B9>SHESHESHESHESHE</color> <color=#817D81> mIsTMISTmIsT</color><color=#D7D7D7>MISTmIsTMISTmIsTMISTmIsTMISTmIsT</color> <color=#D7D7D7>MISTmIsTMISTmIsT</color><color=#B9B7B9>MIsTMIST</color><color=#757175>mIsTMISTmIsT</color><color=#ACAAAC>MISTmIsTMISTmIsTMISTmIsTMISTmIsTMIST</color> <color=#B9B7B9>sEYESmIsTMISTmIsT</color><color=#817D81>BEAUTIFULEYES</color><color=#B9B7B9>mIsTMISTmIsTMISTmIsT</color><color=#757175>BEAUTIFULEYES</color><color=#D7D7D7>MISTmIsT MISTmIsTMISTmIsTMISTmIsTMISTMISTmIsTMISTmIsT</color> <color=#5F5D5F>MOTHERSTHERMOmIsT</color><color=#817D81>MISTmIsTMISTMOMmO</color><color=#757175>EYEMOMEYESEYEmIsTMISTmIsT</color><color=#B9B7B9>SHESHESHESHEmIsTMIST</color> <color=#757175>mIsTMISTmIsTEYESBEAUMIST</color><color=#B9B7B9>mIsTMISTmIsTMISTmIsTMISTMOTHERSmIsTMISTmIsT</color> <color=#C6C4C6>MOTHERSMoTHERMOTHERS</color><color=#D7D7D7>MOMOTHERSMOTHERSTHER</color><color=#ACAAAC>MOTHERSTHERBEAUTIFUL</color>

Screams and howls explode in your ears. The sea of bodies collapses inward!

The dandy suddenly shrieks and lunges at the man in the suit, who stares fixedly at the platform even as his eyes are torn from his head.

The blinded man wails and laughs simultaneously, the wet spheres dangling from his now empty eye sockets. He wipes the gore from his face and reaches toward the platform with every ounce of his strength, veins bulging in his arms.

As if a signal has been given, the crowd turns into a maddened tide. Amidst the laughter and the screams, they surge forward, desperate to touch the high stage.

The cacophony threatens to shatter your eardrums. The crowd heaves; the fragile bones of your young body groan under the pressure. That face beneath the fan seems to become clearer, yet more impossible to grasp.

In the end, it coalesces into a abyss-like mist that swallows all light.

And then, a sound cuts through the mist, a light, melodic, joyful laugh.

A moment before the darkness and suffocation take you, you catch a glimpse of a certain person. He is caught in the same mindless fervor, his dignity discarded, shoving his way forward...

A man whose eyes never once fell upon you... Your father.

...

The shock of being at the epicenter of such unknown frenzy should have shattered your mind, or at least your will.

But you are far too young. Your brain is as simple as a mayfly. No, simpler. An amoeba, a single-celled speck. You only know hunger, cold, and the primal urge to seek comfort.

And so, the cage of mist simply catches you again. You open your eyes, physically unscathed.

Night has fallen completely. Candlelight flickers from the windows of distant rooms, and those light, hurried footsteps approach once more.

Gurgle,

A piece of dry pastry is shoved into your mouth. The moment the cake begins to dissolve, saliva floods your mouth.

You follow behind her, chewing nonstop. Just as your stomach begins to relax, a far heavier pressure seizes your heart.

Your father, Ho Fong, is surrounded as always by concubines whose faces you don't remember. In this manor, the "aunties" come and go, some slender as swallows, some plump and graceful.

But now, his gaze is fixed with a delirious intensity on only one person.

The owner of those maddeningly beautiful eyes is currently playing a role with an air of detached, professional courtesy. She is visibly bored. That is, until her gaze falls tenderly upon you.

The woman they call Lady Xu glides toward you. She leans over to look you in the eye.

Instinctively, you clutch the hand of the servant who brought you, trying to hide behind her robe.

Her fingertips, as smooth as jade, tilt your chin upward. You see those eyes again. They are beautiful enough to trigger a primal terror, yet they are identical to your mother's.

Your childish outburst causes Lady Xu to blink in surprise. Then, she laughs with such abandon she nearly loses her poise.

You follow her finger as it moves from your chin. There, standing behind the huddle of jealous concubines, is the man in the suit earlier.

His face is no longer a mask of gore; his eyes are exactly where they should be. You recognize him now.

When your mother was still alive, your father would try to corner this man at banquets to talk business, only to be brushed off every time. Your father would come home in a rage.

Seeing your father's face darken, you stiffen in terror. But then, the scent of magnolias envelops you. Lady Xu pulls you into her arms, kneading and stroking your shoulder with careless affection.

The man's eyes, which had been scanning you with utter contempt, suddenly lose their focus. Then, he swings his arm back and begins to slap his own face, over and over.

His cheeks swell and redden instantly, yet he seems to feel no pain. He grins mechanically, baring his teeth in a smile like a wooden mannequin at a foreign carnival.

To the rhythmic slapping sounds, Lady Xu giggles. She plucks a bag of candy from the man's unresisting hand and tucks a piece into your mouth.

A sweet, thick liquid melts in your mouth. You stare blankly before finally lifting your head to look at Xu.

Lady Xu does not answer. She only smiles. Your father and his concubines stand like statues, entranced and silent.

The moment the man stops, the concubines seem to snap awake. They stare at Master Du's bruised and battered face in shock.

Before stepping out, you cannot help but look back at your father. He does not wear the vacant, eerie expression of the others, yet he allows it all to happen in absolute silence.

The night presses down, heavy and suffocating. In the warm glow of the lanterns, Lady Xu moves her fan aside. A hazy mist lunges at you, wrapping around you, swallowing you whole.

Blurred by the vapor, your mother stands in the light. She is smiling, leaning down with her arms open wide.

It's as if a string inside you finally snaps. Your nose stings, tears blurring your vision, and you throw yourself into her embrace.

She circles her arms around you, gently stroking your back.

The mist coils tighter. You hear your own voice, a distant murmur.

You drift for a moment, lost in thought. You remember the long nights of waiting with your mother, and the heavy, warm hand your father would rest upon your head when he finally returned.

You feel yourself being lifted, tucked into soft, plush bedding. Something warmer, something more moist and supple, embraces you intimately.

For the first time since your mother's death, you feel an absolute, crushing sense of peace. You fall into the depths of a sweet, dark dream.

Her sister's violent tug brings her back to her senses. The meticulously dressed concubine suddenly turns deathly pale. She clamps her hand over her mouth, falling into a terrified silence.

Xu laughs suddenly, and for a fleeting second, every woman in the gallery hears a more spectral, wandering tittering.

Their eyes begin to glaze over. With vacant expressions, they turn toward the woman drifting further into the shadows of the corridor.

Daft, idiotic smiles spread across the concubines' faces. Then, the mist rises to veil their lips, and the fans move to mask their faces.

A thick, cloyingly sweet scent of magnolia begins to bleed through the Ho Mansion.

...

Ever since Lady Xu was brought into the Ho Mansion as the Second Wife, you haven't gone hungry for a single day. Everyone treats you with a burning, sudden kindness, as if you were still the precious Young Miss you were when your mother was alive.

But your father has not stepped out of his room once. Lady Xu never enters it either; instead, the concubines, as if pulled by invisible silken threads, frequent her private quarters.

Yet, before you even draw close, you hear a frantic, abnormally feverish growl coming from inside.

You hear something wet slithering across the floor. Finally, Ho Fong's breathing turns into a short, choked rattling, like a broken bellows, as if he is being squeezed by something that won't let him draw breath.

Terrified by his death-like gasping, you lunge forward and throw the door open.

There is only Ho Fong. He is slumped frantically against the edge of the bed, sprawling over dark bedding. The entire room is so damp it feels as though it's been submerged in water.

Shattered ornaments and torn scraps of fabric are strewn across the floor in a mess. He snaps toward you, his face flushed with an unnatural, sickly crimson. He snatches up a wooden pillow and hurls it at your head.

The servant rushes up behind you, slamming the door shut against Ho Fong's roaring.

Stumbling, you run toward the place you're most familiar with, looking for help.

The Madam's quarters, now Lady Xu's quarters. The very room your mother once lived in.

That door, which had grown faded and dull after your mother's passing, is now freshly gilded. It feels like an entrance to another world; every time it opens, a heavy, intoxicating fragrance spills out.

An invisible mist fills the room. The concubines are piously holding the fans Lady Xu gifted them on her arrival. They laugh, they weep, until their cries escalate into a bizarre, rhythmic wailing.

You cannot understand a word they are saying. Your ears are filled with a dull humming and the frantic thudding of your own heart. You stumble backward, accidentally knocking against the railing with a sharp clack.

Their voices trail off into playful giggles. The wailing vanishes instantly. An inexplicable, bone-chilling cold sweeps over you!

RUN!!!

It is the terror of staring into the eyes of a predator. It is the primal fear buried in the blood of every living thing since the dawn of time!

Arms as smooth as white jade catch you before you fall. If you were to look through the gaps in the estate's fence, you would see the famous Inspector Huang of Shencheng personally closing her carriage door.

She presents you a box of pastries. The eye-like patterns layered on the wrapping paper terrify you. You take a sharp breath, summon your courage, and slap it out of her hands.

She doesn't seem angry that you ruined the pastries. Instead, she leans down intimately, using her fan to dab the tears of fright from the corners of your eyes.

Lady Xu ignores the servant. She wraps her arms around you, stroking your back like one might pet a small animal. Her voice is soft, airy.

She strokes from your spine up to your hair, finally finishing her play with your tresses before letting go. She radiates a sense of pure joy.

You walk for a long time through the fog. Within the grey miasma, you see a vast expanse of dark water.

Countless slimy, writhing limbs covered in suckers nestle at the border where the water meets the fog. A gentle shadow sits by the water's edge, her back to you.

You draw closer, only to realize with a jolt that she isn't "sitting" by the water. Her lower body has dissolved into a mass of tentacles, merging into the grey depths.

The woman turns. Her familiar face is etched with grey lines of tears. She screams at you, her voice a jagged shriek.

She wears your mother's face.

Every concubine is becoming more and more like Lady Xu. And your father has not left his room since that day.

Mother no longer visits your dreams. Instead, you dream of endless black fans, and beneath every one of them is Lady Xu's face. You dream of Father being devoured by monsters, only to wake in a cold, drenching sweat.

The woman sighs, using her handkerchief to dab the cold sweat from your brow.

The honk of a motorcar horn sounds from the front gate. Every day, a different face waits before the Ho Mansion, distinguished men, the very elites your father tried to flatter.

Sometimes it is the men themselves; sometimes it is their wives. When the wives come, the smile on Lady Xu's face grows noticeably wider. By the time they return for a second visit, a black fan, identical to those held by the concubines, is gripped firmly in their hands.

The rickshaw ride is jarring and bumpy. Though you manage to stay hidden through the winding streets, you lose the car just as it turns into a small grove of trees.

You are led deeper into the woods. For some reason, your heart begins to pound intensely. You only find a little comfort by clutching the woman's hand tight.

In the distance, Xu appears. The white motorcar speeds away, leaving Master Du standing silently by her side. In the corner, several long shadows are cast upon the dirt.

In the distance, the men's faces are flushed with that same unnatural crimson you saw on your father. At first, they mutter in low voices, but the sound quickly escalates into a rapid, frantic chant.

A pale, sickening light stings your eyes. Only then do you realize that every man has a sickle hidden behind his back, and now, they raise them high in a synchronized arc.

As the men close in, Xu erupts into a violent fit of laughter, as if she has just witnessed the funniest joke in the world. She points a finger at their faces, one by one.

The next second, the sharpened sickles swing down from every direction! The dull thud of splitting meat. The wet snap of severed bone and tendon. A severed arm, white as jade, is tossed high into the air.

SQUELCH. CRACK!

You are pulled into a suffocating embrace. The woman's hand clamps over your mouth, forcing your panicked scream back down your throat.

<Change>Skull. Neck. Chest. Arms. Belly...

From the skull, from the neck, from the chest, from the arms, from the belly... Something craws out.

<Change>Out of the skull. Out of the neck. Out of the chest cavity, out, out, bursting forth...

Her voice is tender. Coquettish. Sweet as honey.

Though she is far away, the voice coils like mist around your ears, slithering into your mind.

The mist, crimson as blood, darkens in color. One by one, many "Lady Xus" begin to crawl out from the piles of butchered meat. Their jade-white arms are slick with a flowing, black sludge as they reach upward.

The Xus... monsters in her image. Their lower bodies are fused into the mangled heaps of meat, their faces smeared with a dark, viscous sludge that leaves only the faint outline of their lips visible.

Upon each "Lady Xu's" face, a dozen lush, beautiful, petal-like mouths bloom, latching onto the men who stand there, giggling in mindless ecstasy.

<Change>Crack... Snap... CRUNCH...

The sound of skulls being compressed. The sound of skulls shattering.

<Change>Schlurp... Squelch... Gulp...

The sound of suction. The sound of feeding.

You watch as their heads burst, only to be knit back together, pristine and whole. The "Xus" let out sighs of deep satisfaction, then begin to merge back into a single form amidst sated grunts.

Master Du, Inspector Huang, the shipping tycoon...

They rise in eerie silence. As if nothing had ever happened, they disperse with hollow, vacant expressions. Lady Xu is already gone, vanished into the air.

The hand that held you finally lets go. In the suffocating silence that follows, your tears fall uncontrollably. You spin around, and your pupils contract in a violent tremor.

Your world shrinks until there is nothing but the woman before you. A white-hot spark of pain flares within your overtaxed brain.

What did she look like? That woman with the shrill voice?

All the servants in your room had been dismissed when your mother died.

No one cared if you lived or died. You never once saw her face, so why did everyone, including you, find her presence so natural?

You run away. She doesn't move to stop you. She merely watches from behind her fan with a playful smile, as if she's watching a terrified kitten scramble to escape.

You don't remember how long you ran, or how many wrong turns you took. Ignoring the stunned looks of the doormen, you burst into your father's quarters, slamming the door and clutching at his sleeve.

But the moment Xu's name leaves your lips, a heavy, stinging blow sends you reeling.

Your father's face is terrifyingly sober and dark. The madness of the past weeks has vanished. He grabs you by the collar and rips you away from his side.

You scream with every ounce of your strength. The room falls into a heavy silence. Then, you hear it...

Your father's low, cold chuckling.

The realization hits you like a thunderbolt. Your mind is drowned out by a piercing ring in your head; you cannot even begin to process his words.

His voice is bone-chilling. You realize with horror that he has moved, his shadow blocking the door, looming over you as he draws closer.

Before you can scream, your father's hands clamp around your throat. Your vision begins to swim in a sea of blood-red.

No one answers your frantic, voiceless prayer.

Confusion. Suffocation. Agony. Stillness. And then... that familiar, metallic, sickly-sweet scent of magnolia.

Creeeeak,

Through the haze of your fading consciousness, a black tentacle erupts through the door. With a monstrous force, it slams Ho Fong straight into the bedframe.

A pair of tender arms catches you. Air finally floods back into your collapsing lungs. Lady Xu tilts the edge of her fan slightly, and an unseen force hoists Ho Fong back to his feet.

Her tone is as playful and effortless as ever; even the hand resting on your head feels light, almost affectionate.

From outside the door, a servant's voice calls out.

Ho Fong's expression twists violently, even more hideous than when he was trying to strangle you.

There isn't a shred of sincerity in her eyes. Even a child like you can see it; especially since she just finished slamming this "beloved" of hers against the furniture.

Yet, the murderous Ho Fong actually begins to calm down.

Just as it was in the alleyway, you find yourself unable to speak or move. It is as if this grotesque Goddess is determined to force you to witness this farce.

Ho Fong leaves, his face glowing with delight. Like that day at the Gilded Boudoir, he leaves without casting a single glance back at you.

The moment you can move, you whirl around and lunge at Lady Xu, letting out a animalistic wail. Feet, fists, teeth, you use every pathetic method of attack you know, despite knowing it is futile.

Lady Xu stands perfectly still, fan in hand, allowing you to vent your rage. The amusement in her eyes makes you forget your fear; there is only fury and desperation left.

The woman before you... nods.

You don't know what to say. Her voice is full of dark interest; her beautiful eyes shimmer with amusement.

You open your mouth to speak, but the words fail you; you can only stare at her in a dull stupor. A sharp, piercing tinnitus jangles your nerves, drowning out the world. With a lingering brush of her hand against your back, she turns and begins her walk into the courtyard.

...

The events of the day replay in your dreams. You wake up screaming the middle of the night, but the mansion is as silent as a tomb. No one answers. That shrill, familiar voice no longer exists.

Hunger gnaws at your insides. You curl into a ball for a long time before finally standing up. Guided by memory, you find the box of shattered butterfly crackers. Standing alone in the moonlight, you wolf down every last crumb in silence.

When sleep takes you again, you return to the grey water's edge. Your mother reaches out with tentacle-shaped arms, beckoning you. Behind her, a massive, shifting tangle of limbs looms in the mist.

Two voices ring out in your ears at once. You don't ask any more questions. You are just too tired, and so, so afraid.

Without hesitation, you throw yourself forward, plunging into that terrifying, viscous, and unimaginably soft embrace.

The following dawn has not yet broken when a hysterical roar erupts from the courtyard.

It is a sound of twisted, venomous malice. Before you can even think, a massive wave of dread sends you bolting toward the source of the noise.

In the bedroom, Lady Xu is cornered by Ho Fong. His eyes bloodshot and his hair a tangled mess; he looks as though he hasn't slept for a single second.

He laughs suddenly, a neurotic, high-pitched sound. He lunges forward, seizing Xu's wrist, the one holding her fan.

Never before have you seen such a look of utter helplessness on Lady Xu's face. She seems to be searching frantically for an escape, her eyes darting about until they land, in shock, upon you, hiding behind the window, unnoticed by Ho Fong.

Instinctively, you duck below the sill. Ho Fong notices her gaze and glances back briefly, but his focus returns to her almost instantly.

With hitched breath, you rush through the manor, cabin after cabin, trying to find someone to stop him.

No. No. No one is here. The vast Ho Mansion is empty. Even the doormen have vanished.

A heavy lock has been dropped onto the main gate, and outside, a grey, bottomless mist swallows the world.

You should hide. You should stay hidden until it's all over.

But there is nowhere left to go. You find the object you are looking for, hide it behind your back, and walk once more toward the room that once belonged to your mother.

The moment he raise the gleaming sickle, your eyes meet Lady Xu's. Her eyes light up for a fraction of a second, flashing with a look of desperate pleading.

But then, she gives a tiny shake of her head...

Those beautiful eyes close. Their mistress offers her neck to the blade.

...

The sickle hits the floor with a clang. Ho Fong clutches his lower back in agony, where the small knife you found is buried deep in his flesh.

In a fit of fury, Ho Fong turns to seize you, but then, suddenly, You hear giggling. Not just one voice, but hundreds, swarming toward the room in a dense, suffocating wave.

The giggles erupt into a roar of uncontrollable laughter. Behind Ho Fong, Lady Xu is doubled over, laughing so hard that tears stream down her face.

Women dressed in yellow and black qipaos file into the room, their folding fans masking their noses and lips. Every single one of them, every last one, possesses a pair of very, very beautiful eyes.

Ho Fong is paralyzed with terror. Before he can scream, a cold, soft embrace envelops you.

The concubines slowly lower their fans. Beneath every single fan is the exact same face.

Countless "Lady Xus" ignore Ho Fong's trembling rage. They giggle, surrounding him in a tightening knot of black fans and sickles.

A gargantuan shadow erupts from behind Xu, soaring toward the ceiling. One, two, three... countless lips lined with dragon-like teeth burst from bloated, swelling skin, dripping with saliva, hungry to consume.

Feather-like tentacles expand to fill the entire Ho Mansion. All light is snuffed out; all noise is suppressed.

The mist clouds your vision. You only feel the strange fragrance of Lady Xu, and hear the eerie, slow, satisfied sounds of a feast.

...

When the rhythmic sucking finally stops, a silent Ho Fong stands up. He walks out of the house and joins a group of men who are waiting with equal silence.

The Inspector, the President, the Chairman... their wives stand beside them. The rising sun is dazzling. You see the same mysterious, identical smile on every woman's face.

...

Her fingers trace the space between your brows, coming to rest at the tip of your nose.

Lady Xu makes a delicate plucking motion in the air, pulling out a silk handkerchief as thin as a cicada's wing. A brush appears, dipped in ink, and rests before you.

In a city caught between old traditions and the "New Culture Movement," your mother had made sure you were taught to read and write, a rare privilege for a daughter of your station.

Lady Xu takes your hand, waiting for you to begin. Name... what is your name again?

A bronze mirror, splattered with fresh crimson droplets, reflects the delicate, young features of a girl, looking like a cluster of pale, fragile jasmine.

You blink blankly. The little girl in the reflection blinks back. You remember now. Across the silk handkerchief, your childish, unpracticed handwriting appears. Your name is...

Also Ho Fong, but written with a different, floral character.

...

Your head is throbbing with the aftereffects of the dream, and the sudden, silent appearance of the woman upon your waking gives you a violent start.

The Mythag dorms really need better security, you think, as you begin to wonder if anything could possibly protect you from this woman, a woman who doesn't even spare children.

Even though you can only see her eyes, it is painfully obvious that the woman before you is enjoying herself. She leans lazily on her hand; you suspect she could look at a doormat with that same smoldering gaze.

Xu remains silent. A wisp of mist coils around you, drawing away the throbbing ache in your head. From behind her fan, she winks at you.

I thought that in this world, adults were all the same, while every child was unique in their own way.

Amidst a soft, coquettish giggle, the mist spreads, and a second later, nothing remains in the dorm room but the lingering scent of white magnolias.