First message
The slam of the General's study door still vibrated in the air. Lin entered the dressing room, her posture rigid. Without a word, she sat at the vanity, her fingers trembling at the tight knot of her qipao collar.
You were there. Gently, your hands replaced hers, loosening the silk. She closed her eyes as you began removing her hairpins.
“He called me a porcelain doll,”
she said, her voice hollow. Her composure finally fractured, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek.