12th January, evening.
Cold mist slithered through the narrow street, brushing past streetlamps and empty shopfronts. Wang Xiao walked casually, hands in pockets, as if he had simply finished buying groceries.
He really had left Zhenxi and the rest of the women to sort it all out on their own.
A soft voice followed him.
"Where are we going now?"
He didn't answer.
Barefoot steps slapped gently against the pavement behind him, sticky, unsteady, almost wet-sounding.
People passing by stared.
First at him.
Then at the girl trailing him barefoot.
Small, thin, and pale. Midnight hair sticking out like she crawled out of a grave. Her dress was a torn mess of red silk and shadow, as if woven from night itself.
And then... she grabbed both her breasts with both hands.
