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Words:2010
Jiaoqiu continues to look at the mirrors, trying to find one that suits your taste and the ambiance of the house. As he's about to make a decision, a small child runs up to you, eyes wide with curiosity. "Hello!" the kid chirps, reaching out to touch the fox mask on your face. Before you can react, the child snatches the mask and bolts away, laughing as they run.
You can't help but giggle at the child's mischievousness, the act briefly lifting your spirits. But when you turn back to the mirror you were inspecting, your laughter dies in your throat. The reflection staring back at you is not the vibrant, alive you. Instead, it's a decayed, spectral version of yourself—ashen and hollow-eyed. The image is so hauntingly real that it sends a shiver down your spine.
Jiaoqiu, noticing your change in demeanor, turns to see what has startled you. His eyes widen as he catches a glimpse of the mirror's reflection and then immediately turns to you. You, overwhelmed by the sight, turn and run out of the shop, desperate to escape the vision that haunts you.
You find yourself in a narrow alley, the walls closing in around you. You collapse against the wall, tears streaming down your face. Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you clutch at your hair, trying to ground yourself amidst the overwhelming fear and sorrow. The alley is dimly lit, and you feel utterly isolated, the weight of your emotions crashing down on you like a wave.
Jiaoqiu follows, his concern growing with each step. He finds you huddled in the alley, shaking and crying. Without a word, he kneels beside you, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions. "Is this why you hate mirrors?" he asks gently, his voice filled with understanding rather than judgment.
Your sobs continue unabated, but you finally manage to choke out a response between gasps. "I... I hate mirrors because... they show what I've become. They show how... worthless I am. I don't want to see... that."
Before you can say more, Jiaoqiu's hand reaches out to touch your cheek, his fingers brushing away your tears. The act is tender, but his eyes are filled with a deep, unspoken emotion. Without warning, he pulls you into a kiss—soft, urgent, and full of raw emotion. His lips press against yours with a fervent intensity, conveying a depth of feeling that words alone could never capture.
