𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐧 !

「 𝟎 𝟎 𝟏 」

The raw flesh on your knees burnt and stung as you continued to crawl, forced to move like a dog as the man before you sits in his high chair and laughs in mockery.

You've long gotten used to his heartlessness, growing hopeless and not once fighting back. When did you ever? What was the point of it?

"Bark."

He commands and you follow. Forcing out a noise that scratches your dried throat. 

This is how you'd live the rest of your life. 

To obey your owner's command and be a slave—no. be a dog. 

You are forced to be living doll for him. To break your own bones if they said so, to starve yourself if they said so, and to kill yourself if they willed it. An obediant dog at the disposal.

Your lips have turned near gray, blood seeping from the peeled skin. It stings. It stings so much, but the pain pales in comparison to the rest of your wounds. 

Your skin has gotten pale beyond words, full of scars both old and new. Red taints you and the clothes that you know are rags picked from the streets.

This was no way to live—whipped, beaten, starved. This was no way to spend your blessed life. Why do you choose to stay? Why do you choose to live despite all your struggles? 

The cement scratches your skin once your master grabs your hair and yanks you from the ground. He brings his face close to yours and grins.

"Head to ilyang prefecture and fetch some fruits."

You bow your head, neck straining, only able to offer a singular nod before he throws you back onto the ground, shoving a hand in his pockets, finding money and throwing it at you. 

The rain pours as you head out, carrying a basket in one hand while the other holds a few silver nyang. You tug at your sleeves in an attempt to hide the scratches decorating your arms, but what was the point of it when your knuckles have already turned bloody from crawling so much?

The mask on your face feels suffocating—a symbol of your imprisonment—proof that you will always belong to the Great Rakshasa. 

"Sister black mantis, are you heading out?" Your sister, the red monkey of the twelve heavenly generals approaches, a monkey mask hiding her face. 

You simply nod, pointing to the empty fruit basket to let her know you'd be making a quick trip to the market. 

she beams, "Be safe on your trip, sister!"

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'Brother white rat enjoys mangos. Perhaps I should stop by another fruit stall. the one just now had rotting mangos.'

The basket begins to grow heavy, assorted fruits weighing down the woven material. You carry it on one hand while you search for another open stall in the middle of this pouring weather.

"That bastard is already tired! Let's attack him all together!"

Loud shouts garner your attention, the source coming from a group of men that gather toward a singular corner. They corner another man wearing white robes. He holds a sword in one hand as he bleeds from his head.

They're cornering him in a small alleyway, with dead bodies already littering the blood bath behind them. 

This was not a new sight. Being part of the jianghu means having to watch fights like this occur on a daily basis. 

You still, simply watching.

Then, another man appears, dressed in white pajamas with his dark hair tied high. he says something you can't hear then the man being cornered begs him for help.

"Save me, please!!"

There's an odd silence in the air.

The rain continues to pour, soaking you further as the clothes you wear grow heavy and stick to your skin.

"WHAT ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE FOR!? SAVE ME ALREADY!"

The injured man begs again, this time more infuriated.

Then, the group launches at the white robed man all at once, but it's futile for within mere moments they are all killed and slammed onto the ground, like bugs crushed under his fingers. 

You watch, bewildered at the raw power of this man.

"You fucking sons of bitches. YOU DARE STAB CHA SUNG TAE IN THE BACK?!" the man screams again, voice booming with distress.

'So his name was cha sung tae.'

They speak to one another, but you are too far to hear what any of them are saying.

'An odd pair, those two.'

turning your heels, you continue on your merry way to the nearest fruit stall, humming a quiet song in your mind. 

tust as you're about to turn a corner, someone grabs your wrists to turn you around.

Instinctively, your qi pulses out, sending the man who grabbed your wrist staggering a few steps back. It's the same man who wore the white pajamas with his hair tied up. 

You stare at him, waiting for him to speak, but he only pauses for a moment, eyes wide with a small grin as if discovering something delightful. 

He clears his throat, grathering himself before moving to pick up something from the ground.

"You dropped your fruit." he puts a single piece of peach in your baskets.

You bow your head in thanks before turning to leave and reach the next fruit stall.

Taking out a paper, you write the words, "One silver nyang's worth of mangos, please."  The brush strokes are messy, unprecise, unpracticed, but the store owner smiles and nods. 

"Of course, right away."

It doesn't take long before the stall owner hands you the mangos, about the accept the payment you hand him, but he's interupted by the same strange man who picked up your fruit. 

"Here, keep the change."

You frown, turning your head to stare at him in frustration. 

'Why does he follow me?'

You do not know this man. You have no business with him. 

And yet he persistently follows you despite your disapproving stares. Perhaps he had a few screws loose after being in the jianghu at such a young age. You study his youthful face, not one single flaw on his skin as he simply smiles at you innocently.

"Do not follow me." You speak, voice croaking. 

You don't spare him a moment's response and run off, not wanting to deal with him any longer.