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墨書 Inktalez
The shape of the twin flowers… one of the petals curling slightly downward…
It was exactly aligned with the direction of the scar at the corner of my left eye!
A cold, terrifying thought pierced through my mind in an instant.
The chaotic accident ten years ago… Su Qing's scream… the shards flying everywhere… and my instinctive action to shield her…
Could it be…?
The twin flower cufflink pressed coldly against my skin.
The curve of the petal was like a lightning bolt, splitting open the chaos of memory.
The scar at the corner of my left eye suddenly burned with a sharp pain.
No, it wasn’t a burn; it was a cold sting, carrying the chill of that stormy night ten years ago.
Lu Chen Zhou's roar echoed in my ears, and the gazes of the crowd pricked at me like needles.
But what did that fleeting look of betrayal and hurt in his eyes mean?
I was clearly the one who had been manipulated, deprived, and treated as a mere shadow!
Pain shot through my wrist as if it were about to snap.
My instinct for survival propelled me to break free from his grip!
With such force that I stumbled back a few steps, colliding with the cold wall behind me.
“Su Yan!” He stepped forward, seemingly trying to grab me again.
The surrounding flashes and whispers grew louder.
He seemed to realize the situation, his movements freezing in place. Yet his eyes, sharp as an eagle's, locked onto me with an undeniable possessiveness and... a hint of a complex emotion I couldn't decipher.
"Wait for me at home."
He squeezed out those four words through clenched teeth, his voice low and commanding, yet strangely laced with a sense of suppressed fatigue.
Then he abruptly turned away, no longer glancing at the painting or at me. Surrounded by his bodyguards, he left the exhibition hall like a storm carrying ice and snow.
Leaving behind a scene of chaos and a room filled with silence.
I leaned against the wall, gasping for breath, cold sweat soaking my back.
My fingertips were icy, trembling slightly.
I couldn't stay here.
I nearly fled in panic, rushing out of the art museum and hailing a taxi.
I gave the driver the address of the small apartment I had just rented on the other side of the city, belonging to "Lin Yan."
Outside the car window, the city's neon lights rushed past in a blur.
The bizarre colors reflected on my pale face.
At the corner of my left eye, the flesh-colored concealer patch seemed to sense its owner's unease, its edges curling slightly.
Returning to the empty apartment, there was no cold scent of cedar, no omnipresent surveillance.
Only the cold walls and the sound of my own breathing echoing in the air.
I slid down onto the chilly floor, leaning against the door.
Darkness surged in like a tide, engulfing me.
The last look in his eyes, that phrase "Wait for me at home," wrapped around me like a spell.
And that cufflink... its curve so similar to my scar...
Is it a coincidence?
Or... was it planned all along?
I suddenly stood up and rushed into the bathroom.
The harsh white light was blinding.
In the mirror, a weary, frightened face stared back at me.
The flaxen curls, the meticulously shaped brows and eyes, even the upward curve of my lips bore the shadow of Su Qing.
Tear it off.
Only the incongruous flesh-colored patch at the corner of my left eye stubbornly reminded me of who I am.
No, I am almost forgetting who I am.
My fingertips trembled as they brushed against the concealer patch.
It felt like a layer of false skin, stuck to my face for ten years.
A voice screamed from deep within me.
Tear off this disguise and see what lies beneath.
My nails caught the edge, pulling it little by little, with force.
The adhesive tugged at my skin, sending a familiar sting coursing through me.
It was a faint pain, but I had long since grown accustomed to it.
Yet tonight, that sensation acted like a key, suddenly unlocking the floodgates of my memories!
Boom—
It felt as if thunder roared outside the window.
No, it wasn’t outside; it was in my mind.
That was… the summer of 2013.
A night when torrential rain poured down.
The rain fell like buckets being dumped onto the ground, splashing up murky puddles.
The wind howled fiercely, like the cries of ghosts and wolves.
The billboards by the street swayed precariously in the storm.
“Lu Chen Zhou! Come back!”
It was my sister Su Qing's voice, sharp and tinged with tears, torn apart by the howling wind.
She wore a white dress, resembling a frightened butterfly, recklessly rushing into the curtain of rain to chase after that black car that had vanished into the night.
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