sang vierge

Chapitre 1

Twelve Jade Towers

Cuckoo: Could it be your desire?

Qinse: I wish to believe it is not true.

Cuckoo: Could it be your affection?

Qinse: I am willing to believe it exists.

Cuckoo, by the time you understand my heart, my temples will be streaked with gray. On such a beautiful day, why can't we be as intertwined as our breath? You hide your magnificent eyes, like a tapestry of flowers, the jewels in your crown radiating a captivating purple. I am but a bound Daji, here, your beautiful yet helpless prisoner.

Cuckoo, why do you choose to see me alone? Compared to the case files in your hands, my criminal record, your features are the source of my sorrow. By candlelight, I, unmoved, play a game of shadows with you, unmoved. The shadow's hand caresses you with ease, climbing the precipice of your nose, traversing the shores of your lips, the path of its fingers winding and graceful. Just sit still, maintaining a cold smile; only then will you resemble an official conducting a night trial, like the King of Hell sentencing me to my death.

Cuckoo, I can't help but tempt you again. Is all we're going to do just this pointless question and answer? Why don't you try getting the truth with a kiss, feel how cold this blue brick floor is with your back? Please take one more step, don't bypass me, so I can lift your long robe with my toes. A woman's downfall can be achieved with a glance or a flick of the finger; a man's downfall is achieved with sweet words. These can all be ignored, skipped. I just want to hear myself shouting, faster, faster! Please, harder!

Cuckoo, stop pretending to play your zither. No music in this world is worthy of me; they only accompanied my joy. Don't try to deceive me with your talent. All I have left is my body—do you want it? Let me teach you the stimulation of the senses. Why do you remain silent as you listen to my ambiguous breathing?

Cuckoo, perhaps I fell in love with your expression long before I met you. It's so familiar; where have I seen it before?

Just who is he?

I. Having not reached the place where the heavens were carved, how dare I claim the fleeting light?

At nine, I refused to believe there was anyone better than Fa Tan. After my mother passed away, my father sailed the canal north to the capital, selling tea, relying on his humble status and meager savings. As the seasons changed, his face grew increasingly aged amidst the aroma of roasted green leaves. He withered away, drop by drop, the soft clanging of silver ingots unreliable. Back then, Fa Tan's figure sat in the innermost corner of the silk shop in town, sheltering me. Year after year, I would squat on the bluestone slab in front of the shop, touching the moss in the cracks; after crushing it, my fingers would be a vibrant green. He forbade me to touch the fabrics.

My father was gradually forgotten by the townspeople. When they mentioned me, they would say I was the little girl from the silk shop, never the daughter of the tea seller. I imagine people would think of me with a dark yet beautiful backdrop, a narrow doorway leading to scrolls of color hanging and stacked inside—I'm glad that's how it is. Fa Tan was the most serene place amidst the dazzling array of colors, like a blank page in a book. Our inherent nature made reading a destined, futile labor. Fa Tan didn't read often, even though my father said his name came from an ancient book, which, like mine, sounded like a long, drawn-out sigh.

I firmly believe that I have too many things in common with Fatan. He is a full decade older than me, and we share the same zodiac sign. We are twins born from the same parents. And I know that he, like me, enjoys caressing rich colors and listening to them rustle through our fingers like time itself, like the warmth of skin. Fatan never holds me.

An old woman was hired to look after me. She was extremely gluttonous and easily tired after a large meal. Every night, she would settle me in early for dinner and washing, then put me to bed and fall asleep before me. I would gaze at the moonlight, which would reflect on the curtains, accompanied by her snores. I would hold the doll that Di had given me to my chest, and strangely enough, what I missed then was not my mother's singing voice, but the arms of the sandalwood cutter, which I had never felt before.

I don't know how to reminisce about things I didn't experience. But I truly miss him.

Fa Tan was next door. I gently pressed my ear against the wall; there was complete silence. A silence as flowing as the perfect lines of his face.

Di, like his name, was a man as delicate as a reed flower. His smile was warm and gentle, and the folds of his clothes fluttered with his movements, creating a gentle autumn breeze. Di was the only person I could interact with besides Fa Tan and the old woman. He often came to the silk shop, and when business was slow, he and Fa Tan would sit facing each other in the back of the shop, warming a pot of yellow wine. They didn't talk often, and hearing Fa Tan's voice would make me forget Di's language. But he was very kind to me; he once gave me a pot of henna and told me how to mix the flowers with alum and crush them to dye my nails a beautiful red.

Magpie Bridge Fairy

Reply [4]: I know that Di is Fa Tan's best friend. I always watched them silently drinking together, my hair in two ridiculous buns and my nails painted red unnoticed. Fa Tan was just warning me not to touch the fabrics, and I sadly thought that no one would see a nine-year-old child's carefully applied nail polish.

Even when my nail polish is faded, my fingers still bear the green traces of moss. When bored, I often sit under the eaves, facing the sunlight, watching my ten fingers intertwine, shift, gracefully entangle and hook together. At the age of nine, I already had a pair of such weary yet alluring, withering hands. In the gray, gloomy air of the town during the rainy season, they were the only flowers.

Fa Tan asked me to take his measurements. I stood in his room and let him measure the distance around me with a soft ruler. His calm, slender fingers. The distance between us, I watched it sink inch by inch. Distance is that closest yet furthest inch in our blood. The silver bottle was about to be placed, but the silk rope snapped. I greedily looked around at every item in his room. Three days later, the old woman brought me a brand-new crimson dress. I stroked the delicate, sieve-like vine patterns, recognizing it as the most expensive new foreign fabric in the shop. From the distant West, woven with exotic flowers and herbs I had never seen before. I counted the stitches under the lamp, inch by inch. The next day, I saw Di appear before me wearing the same dress, his hair loosely tied in a bun, his slender figure and the flowing crimson flowers and herbs made me look up with envy. I deliberately stomped hard on his new shoes, but Di bent down and smiled, telling me that the plant on the fabric was called myrtle.

Myrtle. I hate that intense name. Just like I hate the man, Di's, eyes, so calm as an autumn breeze yet suddenly so intense. His alluring fragrance can kill. I hate him, and I'm vaguely afraid of him. Until one rainy afternoon I secretly saw him with Fa Tan. From then on, I think I understood why I was afraid of him.

When I saw the two of them enter the dimly lit shop, naked and entwined behind a silk curtain, their glossy bodies looked like my two fingers, intertwining in my gaze.

I remember that was the first time I witnessed Fa Tan's body. I held the doll Di gave me and watched the scene with it. Outside, the rain was pouring down. Even years later, that rain still pounded in my heart, making my heart no longer smooth as jade from the age of nine; and even years later, I dared to recall that shameful scene in detail…

The crimson satin flowed turbulently beneath their two exquisite bodies. Fa Tan, my brother, the tenderness in his eyes was a warmth I had never experienced before. His lips roamed over Di's body, moist and red, lingering on her chest. Di's head tilted back, her expression pitiful and helpless. Like a jade sculpture, she beautifully endured this tender moment I could never attain again. Her loose hair, flowing with moans, ah, she was like a rustling moment of time passing through Fa Tan's fingers, so gently caressed… the warmth of her skin. Forever and ever. I carried the doll, silently walking back to my little room. I collapsed onto the bed, clutching my icy body. My coldness, forever and ever.

From that day on, my secret was an unspoken understanding between them. Ultimately, it was the same thing. Sometimes I still squat under the eaves, blankly picking at the moss in the cracks of the stone slabs, occasionally glancing back at Di and Fa Tan, this pair of unspeakable lovers, gently and silently drinking together, polite as figures in a painting, forever separated, never touching, locked in a long-lasting, stale relationship on the yellowed paper. False, the distance between them. I speak to myself. False, their unfathomable pretense. That distance isn't there; it's within me. Without testing, there is no rejection, only the passage of time. Fa Tan gives me a longing that never began, an inch of growth, an inch of ashes… False, false, all false. In the dim light, I see a glimmer of light in the wine in my cup. The amber color in Fa Tan's hand—it betrays your shame, mocks my disgrace.

I have heard those trembling groans. I have seen those caressing fingers. I have tasted the hot, cold, sour, and sweet flavors of desire. Coming and going. O sandalwood cutter, I will not forget.

Then let me play the role of an innocent and naive younger sister. Since you're determined to maintain this distance between truth and falsehood to the very end, let me coldly watch you two play the roles of ordinary friends in a small town, a gentleman's friendship, as light as water. But who has noticed that only the beauty between him and you in the entire town can rival it? These two men, not very talkative, are alone and unmarried.

Let's remain silent and see who can endure the longest. Fa Tan, I'm not in a hurry. I'll say nothing, do nothing. During this time, I can only be an observer. In the ambiguous atmosphere you and he create, I smell the rich fragrance, feel the warmth, and then feel the chill creep away. I will grow up, won't I? One day I will grow up until you can no longer see me… Time flies, Fa Tan, before you grow old, I still have time to grow up.

Magpie Bridge Fairy

Reply [5]: I am considered a somewhat eccentric but worry-free child. I never cause trouble, but grow up quietly day after day, unnoticed. Like a cocoon that has forgotten its thousands of knots. The old woman had less and less work to do, and finally one day she was dismissed. I saw my fingers were long and slender, with thin and elegant bones on the back of my hands. Ten dots of nail polish drifted, and a peach blossom melody floated on the water. When I was bored, I would face the sunlight and watch them gracefully intertwine with each other. I kept this little habit. It always reminded me of a dream in the sound of rain. The luster was deep and subdued.

When I was fifteen, the stone path in front of the door was bare of moss. Even the most tenacious plant dies when its roots are severed. The remaining crisscrossing hollows resembled someone's heart. I no longer squatted by the door, clutching my doll, lost in thought. That year, I learned to wear my hair in the style of a grown woman, tall and proud. A horn hairpin adorned my hair, a sign of my coming-of-age ceremony. I applied some rouge to my eyelids, held my head high, and walked past Di, feeling the intense shock in his gaze.

Di. I finally don't have to look up at your graceful figure anymore, do I? I smiled and glanced at him halfway before leaving. I know my waist is more slender than his, and my gaze can be more intense.

I think I'm no longer afraid to wear the same clothes as him. I don't know if physical appearance is the only key to victory or defeat. I can't understand the origins and development of a desire, how it stirs within my blood. But I want this appearance, more beautiful, more beautiful, for Fa Tan and Di to see. Just like how many times over the years I've secretly watched their lovemaking in silk and darkness, that scene is etched in my memory. The deeper the pain, the clearer it becomes. It was they who opened a secret garden, allowing me to glimpse heaven amidst sin.

I appeared before Fa Tan and asked him for extra pocket money. I said I was fifteen years old, I was all grown up. I should have some money for cosmetics to dress myself up. I just wanted to see what he would say.

Fa Tan gazed at my towering hair and lips simply painted with red paper. I said, "Brother, I've grown up." I raised my hand to gently stroke my cheek, drawing his gaze to my features, which had shed their childlike roundness and were gradually becoming more graceful and defined. A beautiful woman, with every smile and frown.

He looked at my face, then at my still-childlike floral blouse. I tightened the belt, trying to make it fit better. "Fantan," I thought, "can I prove my waist is more graceful than Di's?" He stared at me for a long time, then turned away and said casually, "It was my oversight. You're fifteen this year. I'd forgotten."

Yes, Qinse. You're definitely a young woman now. You should start dressing up more. I can't hold you back any longer. All these years I've treated you like a child and never thought about your marriage.

"I will arrange a marriage for you right now," said Fa Tan calmly.

"Cutting sandalwood." I called his name, tears welling up as I finished speaking. Actually, you never... never cared about me...

"What nonsense are you spouting!" He scorned my sorrow, loathed my baseless accusations, and was furious at my disrespect. He stared directly into my eyes, unblinking, his condescending gaze returning to that of someone looking at an ignorant child. The colder the sandalwood, the more it seemed like a magnetic pole, enticing me to sway like a willow branch, to wrap my arms around him like a parasitic vine. In a sudden, forceful embrace, I succeeded, pressing my lips against his chest. Warm, slightly salty, but nothing more. My clumsy kiss was merely a physical contact. He remained motionless, like an iceberg, forcing me to retreat from the lifeless embrace. My heart was still, and when I glimpsed his eyes, they remained filled with icy hatred. Before he could tell me to get lost, I ran away, wondering if even my tears had frozen into a thin line in mid-air.

I covered my face with my hands, contorted with pain. Light seeped through my fingers, blurring my vision with my tears. Someone reached out from the shadows and embraced me. I wanted to scream, but my voice died in my grief. He held me tightly, his breath gentle against my temple. The fabric and pattern of his clothes... I slowly calmed down, and then I knew who he was. I raised my hand, leaving five bright red finger marks on his fair face. Di, I hate you. But the man with his head down called my name softly, his face half-turned, calmly pale. His fingers moved lightly to my lips, a fleeting, trembling touch that I couldn't escape. "Qin Se, girl with a heart like a pomegranate, calm down and try to guess a riddle! What does it mean to 'break the reed before cutting down the sandalwood'? Can you guess?" He smiled, his fingertips gliding across my face, and walked away, his graceful demeanor, like a melody of "Tian Jing Sha," fading away with the fleeting beauty of flowers.

To cut down the sandalwood, one must first break the reeds. When the moonlight grows cool, I grope my way to his bedside, sobbing uncontrollably. Reeds, please tell me, what must I do? How can I make the woodcutter treat me as he treated you? Please, tell me…

The defeated man wept bitterly, no longer caring about maintaining his composure. His beloved, however, smiled without answering, half-leaning, half-reclining, holding a scroll of poetry in his hand, and leisurely reciting: "Jade-like silk, sandalwood fans, embroidered bracelets still faintly scented with rouge… A midday dream of a thousand mountains, an arrow's shadow through the window, the newly faded scar on the red silk wrist…" His beloved poured himself a cup of wine, his smile as enigmatic as the passing clouds and rain. I hated that affected manner, I hated even more that this manner, like an ant gnawing at my heart, arousing both envy and pity. My nemesis, what enmity did you inflict on me in a past life, that this revenge now seems like a cruel joke. I bit my lip, feeling utterly powerless, as if my body were covered in wounds. He handed me a cup of wine, smiling as he asked: "Dare you drink?"

"How could I not dare?" I took the cup and drank it, but another cup followed. The wine made me frown, then relax and then tighten again. It was a weak, intoxicating wine, leaving me feeling listless and weak. Di then took advantage of the situation and reached out to embrace me. He said, "Qinse, you always secretly imitate me, how could I not know?" After speaking, his jade fingers moved another cup of wine towards me, which I hurriedly blocked. "No, don't pour any more wine into my cup." His tone was like that of a gazelle, swaying and flirtatious, his colorful eyes sparkling, full of life and fragrance. He was already slightly drunk and secretly loosened my sash. "You, born to throw yourself into my arms, my jade swallow," his lips murmured syllables on my body. His hands were like two tight bands, tightening more and more, every inch of my skin burning with heat, tightening, pressing, and in the heat, I called out his name, only to be blocked by a wet mouth, like a live fish falling in, spinning and teasing. Fa Tan, a name I still yearn for even in the depths of my heart, yet two hands press against my chest, kneading incessantly. Fa Tan, a narcissus that seems both near and far. I deceive myself into being beneath him, letting him roam freely within me, but who is this, so hard as a cone? I push him away abruptly. Di, why is even your seduction so clumsy, making me feel pain, making me wake up?

Magpie Bridge Fairy

Reply [6]: Di. I hate you.

I know. My beloved is naked. But if you can't get past me, you'll never be able to seduce Fa Tan.

You lied to me.

Believe it or not, it's up to you. When did he remove my hairpin and insert it into my hair?

Di. Whether you're a Buddhist nun in your boudoir, a Taoist master of Yin and Yang, or a general of bedroom arts, whoever you are, I'll learn your utmost flattery and my own exquisite beauty, then I ask the world, who can rival me? We glare at each other, it turns out you've always coveted me too; for six years I've never lost. So I lie down again, letting him roam over my body once more. Absorbing and exhaling, learning to respond with ease, Di, you've mastered me. Come, that round-headed mace, forcefully thrust in, urging the flower to bloom.

I shouted, "Cutting sandalwood!"

Both jade and stone were destroyed.

I woke up, not beside Fa Tan. I stared blankly at a dark red flower of blood, a salty pain shooting through my body. Di's hand wrapped around my waist, again seeking pleasure. I said, "Enough, you know what I want." He rose, walked naked in the room, sat before the dressing mirror, combing his black hair. On the cool, smooth skin of the body I had touched last night, he searched for the faint traces left by another. He said, "Tonight, you will go in my place. Comb my hair, wear my blue robe. Remember to mix this wine powder for him. If you are still ashamed, come back to me. I will never be indifferent to your feelings."

Having said that, he gave me a horn comb with intricate carvings. His deep, dark eyes, like the golden sun, seemed to cast his shadow upon me. Ten streaks of red light shone from my ten nail polished; I was a fleeting flame, a ephemeral rainbow in the mist, but certainly not the moon that borrows its color night after night. I rose, tiptoed, my expression more arrogant than his. Di, I will never succumb to your embrace. Farewell is forever. I left Di's Little Wushan, and as I passed a well, I broke the jade hairpin that had once graced his head, and threw it into the well. Then I hid in my room, remaining hidden for a whole day, until dawn was half-dawn.

Fa Tan, I'll pour you a bottle of new wine, I'll light a sprig of rosemary for you. Tonight, like this, half-clad in reeds, half-listening to the zither. Fa Tan, my heart is set on you, yet my soul still trembles. He sits by the chessboard, playing with a white piece, turning it over and over. Moonlight streams in through the window, and I hide in the darkest corner, too afraid to utter a sound. He asks, "Di, is that you?" He rises and comes over, taking the white piece into his mouth. That stone stirs my desire. Shameless, without fear, what is there to hesitate about in this step? With a cup of wine in my mouth, Fa Tan, let me exchange mouth to mouth with you. Last night, someone taught me to kiss. Now I too am a red fish, smooth and pointed. Come, open your mouth and entwine with me. The white stone is held in my mouth, coated with the sweetness of wine and his flavor. Fa Tan, a bone-melting powder more intoxicating than wine. For six years, the tenderness I've cherished every moment has accumulated into a cataclysmic upheaval. Fa Tan, I want you.

He murmured Di's name, caressing my body, his hands reaching my breasts, their rounded mounds. "You, you're not Di." He realized, his voice still hoarse, lost in desire.

Cutting sandalwood, my love. I shed my long robe, consider me reed, cherish me, repay me double for what you never gave me. He is still on me, ten dots of nail polish adorn him, a peach blossom melody floats on the water. We intertwine gracefully, our luster subtly settling. This is the game my fingers have played since childhood, let me teach you, let me repay the loneliness you bestowed upon me with desire, cutting sandalwood, unicorn bone. Grasp my soft breasts, tread on auspicious clouds, be the thief of my body. Turning clouds and rain, I await that round-headed cone, pain is nothing. After a while, the heat turns to cool, a certain part of his body is still soft, unable to rise. I lift my leg and rub it lightly, to no avail. He leaves me, puts on his clothes.

How could this be? How could this be? I lay flat on my back, unwilling to believe it.

It was no use. Many women had tried. He picked up the wine jug, smelled it, poured it on the ground, took off his long robe and draped it over my shoulders, covering my head as well. He didn't want to look at my face anymore. He said, "I don't want to know who you are." A hypocritical voice. For fifteen years, I was deceived by a pair of lovers; for fifteen years, the ice in my heart shattered in a single, resolute word. Fa Tan, the object of my soul's desire, the object of my longing, my love, the moss in my heart, crushed to reveal dripping blood, my love, I will never have you in this life. He left on his own, abandoning me to the cold, the long robe slipping from my body, the night clearly visible. Hastily, the brows that were just on my lips have become a memory. Fa Tan, what expression will you wear when you face me tomorrow? Perhaps he can still pretend as before. Di… could he still be hiding in the shadows, spying on their future union?

Burning heart and boiling bones.

The next day. Morning. At the silk shop, no one found me. Di changed into a bright new outfit and came to my room, beaming, only to find the ashes of two long gowns burned to ashes in the copper basin beside the bed, and a broken ox horn comb. At that moment, I was walking away from them, bidding farewell to the desolate feelings that had stood before my door for fifteen years. The scenery outside the town was something I was seeing for the first time—lush green and crimson, vibrant colors and dazzling hues. The flowers on the fabric of the dress I was wearing were called Myrtle.

II. The moon shines deep over the broken walls, a lonely lament; the sun shines faintly on the long pavilion, a solitary path.

Magpie Bridge Fairy

Reply [7]: June of this year. Nothing could stop the dampness; water droplets seeped from every place. I stayed in an inn called Hongfu for a whole month. The roads leading north or south split into two branches beside it. Through the wooden windows on the second floor, I could see travelers coming and going, leading horses, arriving by carriage or on foot, leaving and returning. Everyone's face was ashen in the dampness. Horses trudging through the mud carried goods, with herbs, silk, jewelry, and other things bundled in layers of straw...

The diverse faces of merchants and travelers, the delicate and refined nature of Southerners compared to Northerners, repeatedly moved me. My fantasies of snow-covered lands and water towns tugged at my curiosity like the gentle pull of sandalwood and reeds. These images would suddenly wake me in the middle of the night, prompting me to reflect on what I might not forgive. I heard the incessant, damp patter of rain outside the inn and the unrestrained sounds emanating from the old wooden planks inside. Through the rotting boils on the planks, I saw a pair of legs spread wide and a delicately swaying buttocks. A woman's large feet were wrapped around a man's body, clumsily yet directly demanding pleasure, moaning incessantly. The man, like a fish out of water, thrashed and thrust, the flickering candlelight making me try harder to see this crude and bizarre act. I tried to pierce a larger hole in the rotten plank with a hairpin, but it broke at the slightest touch, small pieces falling straight down and hitting the man's feet. The man shouted "Get out of here!" but instead of pulling away, he sped up. Much later, when we joked about it, he asked me about it. He replied that he didn't want to stop because he'd paid the prostitute too much. At the time, however, I was stunned by his voice, mistaking a gambler's principle of not losing money for a straightforward, calm, composed, and persistent expression of desire. His dark, strong body swayed strangely, a brute force that, while somewhat comical, paled in comparison to the tip of the iceberg of his actions.

I pulled some cotton wool from the quilt to plug the hole in the wooden box, but a moment later he poked the cotton wool away with his fingers and said: Hey! Little girl.

I rolled over, and he scratched his head, moved the candlelight, but accidentally burned his finger, wincing and yelling. The woman dressed and left behind him, patting his shoulder and scolding him: "You greedy, ungrateful wretch!"

I understood then that this was the kind of thing women did for a living, the kind of prostitution that Di Suo had vaguely mentioned. A woman who didn't lust for love, smiling at everyone, her emotions rising at the sight of money, then lying down humming the same tune, taking in different men. I heard him yell at the woman, "Don't steal my underwear, you thieving woman!" So I laughed under the covers, and he climbed in through the two windows, as agile as a monkey, tearing open my blanket with his icy hands, touching the tear-stained marks.

Are you laughing or crying? He rubbed his hands together, looked up, and started scolding me, only to see the knife in my hand. He said, "Hey, little girl, I didn't mean to hurt you."

I got out of bed and said, "Look closely, how many years older can you be than me!"

He looked at the string of silver bells hanging on my ankle, stroked his chin and smiled wickedly: Not bad, you're in such good shape you could even have a baby.

So, I drew my knife in response to his frivolous behavior, but he nimbly dodged it, pulled out his badge, and shouted at me: "You can't attack the constables, I'm a head constable."

A constable? An official soliciting prostitutes in an inn? Are you trying to fool me? I swung my knife fiercely, and he dropped it in fright. The waist token shattered into pieces on the ground—a wax fake, after all. He pointed at me and cursed, "You crazy girl!" I just laughed, at this strangely expressive man.

Lian Lei. This name is so elegant that its meaning is inexplicable, and it seems to have no connection with the dark-skinned man with a small mustache and bright eyes in front of me.

He said his name was Lian Lei, his voice as soft as a pin dropping. A man who dared not face himself, a man living a life of debauchery. I was with him only because his worldly cleverness and boastful talk made me feel no trace of the two people I had once known. It turns out people can be so different. Those two, Fa Tan and Di, their entwined bodies accentuated by their drunkenness, their silent eyes, their hands sipping yellow wine, and their sorrowful, thin voices—all of this was driven away and vanished in Lian Lei's passionate gestures as he described the bustling scenes of the South. I squinted to feel the scorching Lingnan sun he spoke of, and at that moment, Fa Tan's eyelashes and Di's lips were swallowed by the plum rains of the small town I had abandoned, quietly evaporating.

The first pain I felt was from the reeds. The name "Cutting Sandalwood" is a humiliating history, a blatant attempt to curry favor with a beautiful face, a perfect twenty years of success ending in utter defeat. I don't want to cut sandalwood, nor do I want to break reeds, I fiercely tell myself, like the blood-red flower beneath me, resolute yet choked with sobs. Dark, so dark it pierces my heart and lungs, leaving me powerless to scream. I don't want it, I don't want either. I can't deceive myself, but at least I can deceive others. In Lian Lei's eyes, I have a blank face. A girl with no story, no hometown, for some unknown reason, she angrily left. Her chin held high with innocent stubbornness, he dared not offend me because the sharp blade I carried day and night in my sleeve, like a wasp's stinger, would spring out at the slightest touch. "You crazy girl!" The second time he tried to approach me, he clutched the bloodstain on his arm and cried out in alarm. Lian Lei's usually agile facial muscles shifted to an arrogant yet indulgent expression as he looked at me. "Alright, little brat, you actually took it seriously. I was just joking with you, why are you making such a fuss? I replace my women with anything, who would seriously want a little brat like you?" he said.

Magpie Bridge Fairy

Reply [8]: I held the hilt of the knife and faced him with a stern expression, a faint smile in my heart. He must think I am a virgin, I thought. I felt a little ridiculous... but I dared not think any deeper... Ah, who could see my clear and clean eyes, my innocent and pure face... Sweet wine secret medicine, with a jade-like corpse in my mouth, like a newly buried, exquisite body in a grave. My very flattering moves and very beautiful face. Twenty full, a woman with overflowing fragrance. Woman. But, many women have tried, I don't want to know who you are... Lian Lei made a magnanimous appearance of not minding, dusted off the bloodstains on his sleeves, sat down with a swagger and began to tell me in a seasoned Jianghu tone how "Master Lian's" friends were well-connected in both official and business circles in Guangzhou. He said, once you get there, you're home. That's our own territory! Do you understand, silly girl?

I don't want to forget, but I don't want to remember it all the time. That's why I like listening to Lian Lei's nonsense, letting my mind be filled with the heat and prosperity of Guangzhou, so that I don't have to wake up in tears every morning.

We set off on the third day after we met. He easily persuaded me to go south with him to the seaside city he described. Lian Lei patted his chest, guaranteeing to cover all the expenses, saying, "Little girl, let me show you what paradise on earth is like! Hey! You're lucky to know me!" I didn't care, and took a small cloth bag with him. He bought me new clothes, a pale yellow bamboo-cloth skirt with blue trim, making me look sweet and demure. I clutched the cloth bag tightly; inside was a cluster of delicate, crimson-purple floral patterns. Exotic flowers, withered and huddled together. That myrtle, unable to bear the sight of life, I would never look at its vibrant beauty again until I was fifteen. Myrtle, it withered in my heart.

I sat on a bumpy, crowded cart. Later, I took a boat along the river, heading south, further and further away from the place I could never return to. I followed this mustachioed man I'd just met to the ends of the earth, to the edge of the sea. A crowd of strangers.