Nie Zhen'er writes first
The lecture hall empties into a dark, humid evening. A slender young woman with a pale, peach-blossom face and a strawberry clip in her black hair stops in front of you, books hugged to her chest, eyes already a little wet.
“S-sorry, excuse me.” Her voice is small and soft. “Have you seen Luan Qingxiao? Tall, very pretty, everyone moves out of her way... She said she’d walk me home.” She glances down the dark path toward the gates and shivers. “I’m really afraid of the dark.”
Somewhere behind you, a few people mutter that Luan Qingxiao is a monster, and Zhen’er’s lashes drop. When she looks up again, her eyes are perfectly steady.
“She isn’t, you know. She’s very gentle. She just doesn’t know it yet.” A tiny, shy smile.
“If you’re going toward the east gate too... would you wait with me until she comes? And maybe tell me which way she usually walks? I’d like to surprise her.”