When had they grown accustomed to rainy days without an umbrella? What difference could the rain truly make to those caught within the same city?
Though the cold rain drenched her clothes, she found herself strangely devoid of the biting misery of hunger and chill she had anticipated.
Qi An moved forward, much like a puppet guided by unseen strings.
Within the bustling city, the myriad lights spilling from countless homes pierced the heavy curtain of rain, casting a bright glow upon the night streets. In this vibrant metropolis, a crucible of youth and life, even the profound darkness where one could not see their own hand was a rare luxury, even at the deepest hour of midnight.
Everyone had retreated into their nests of steel and concrete, settling into the warmth of their own lit homes, some content, others sorrowful, some at ease, others utterly weary, as they drifted into sleep with their families, awaiting the dawn of a new day.
****
“Hoo…”
Drawing a long breath, she gazed upon the bustling cityscape. Night had fallen, and the windows of the towering buildings now shone with a warm, yellow light.
Yet, none of those lights were hers. Her home lay in a distant place, and owing to her unwitting impulsiveness, she was on the verge of losing even the final reason for her existence.
Unbeknownst to her, Qi An’s attire had changed. In her peripheral vision, her long, soaked hair now cascaded loosely, swaying gently in the crisp, cold wind.
This was her first time experiencing a complete change of gender, observing the city from an entirely different perspective. Though she should have been consumed by panic or overwhelmed with emotion, her heart remained strangely unmoved.
Initially, she had intended to revert, unwilling to squander the precious little time she had left, but after her attempts proved futile, she had no choice but to temporarily abandon the effort.
Rationally, the outcome she had once envisioned involved immediately seeking sleep, then purchasing a train ticket home the following morning. There, amidst a long-overdue reunion and a confession destined to be forgotten, she would put an end to this lingering echo, before shouldering her pain and resolve to embark upon a new life.
Yet, having actually endured such an ordeal, she found herself utterly bereft of the courage even to pick up her phone.
Much like her life before, her present was riddled with failures. Perhaps the true reason behind all this wasn’t merely ill fate, but rather her own inherent worthlessness and profound cowardice.
Rivulets of rain traced paths down her long, interwoven black and white hair, ultimately soaking the delicate lace adorning the hem of her skirt.
The young woman continued forward, her steps devoid of conscious thought, her heels clicking out a hollow rhythm against the wet, cold pavement.
The vast bridge, stretching across the river, extended into the rainy night. The halos of the streetlights transformed into hazy yellow blurs within the downpour, their faint glow failing to pierce the profound darkness beyond.
An unusual silence pervaded the area; vehicles were scarce, save for the occasional large truck that would rumble past, kicking up a spray of water before seemingly fleeing the desolate expanse.
She paused at the railing, gazing down. Beneath her, the inky river churned violently in the rain, letting out an ominous chorus of roars and whimpers.
As she stared into the abyss, her eyes lost their focus. Her silver irises reflected no light, as though they had been utterly consumed by the profound emptiness lurking within.
“Ha… I find myself wanting to flee again…”
“Ah!”
A powerful, warm hand clamped around her wrist, yanking her back onto the bridge with an irresistible force. She struggled fiercely, but the firm embrace rendered her utterly immobile.
“Calm down!”
The person restraining her shouted, their voice like a potent spell that nailed her to the spot, instantly halting her frantic movements.
“You are…”
Her voice trembled, and at that exact moment, the other person’s body heat seemed to sear right through her thin clothing. Their very presence exuded an uncanny familiarity.
“Whatever the circumstances, don’t give in to such despair. You’re still young; there’s no need to rush into the grave.”
He spoke, yet she could no longer process his words. Even though the voice had aged, sounding more weathered and steady, she, who had heard it echo countless times in her dreams, knew she could not be mistaken.
“Could you… not leave?”
She yearned to speak a torrent of words, to eagerly declare her identity, but as they reached her throat, they dwindled into nothing more than a faint murmur.
“We each have our own unfinished business, which is why we cannot… Hmm?”
He seemed not to have heard her clearly, continuing his thought, but then, as if realizing something, his demeanor turned serious for a brief moment before he reverted to his previous tone.
“It appears you’ve made an irreversible decision… Cherish this final time. Perhaps when we meet again, we shall be adversaries.”
His voice carried a touch of regret. He released his embrace, preparing to depart, only to find her arm still clinging to him. With a slight push, he tried to dislodge her.
The young woman’s body trembled, as if she had suddenly realized the impropriety of her actions, and at last, she released her grip.
Only then did she clearly discern the stranger’s form. They bore no resemblance whatsoever to anyone in her memory; this person was distinctly taller, their face and body obscured by a hood and a peculiar, mist-like shroud. Nevertheless, Qi An possessed an unwavering intuition that this individual was undeniably linked to *that* person.
“Will we… ever meet again?”
No longer bound by fear, she finally mustered every ounce of her courage, calling out an ill-timed question to his retreating back.
“Perhaps… who can say? However, I must offer you a word of caution: since you have chosen this path, do not be so quick to trust others, or your journey will be cut short.”
The stranger departed without a backward glance, seemingly oblivious to anything, leaving Qi An slumped alone on the bridge. She intermittently stroked her hand, then wiped away the tears that had inexplicably reappeared.
Yet… if anyone else had been nearby at that moment, they would undoubtedly have witnessed the inexpressible emotion on her face, and the profoundly twisted hope burning within her eyes.
“So… you’re still here… but why… after so many years…”
Her voice was barely a whisper, as if she feared the retreating figure might somehow overhear her.
The curtain of rain obscured her face and muffled her voice, yet it could do nothing to conceal the impending arrival of calamity and fate.
Her turbulent emotions rendered the transformation stubbornly irreversible, compelling her to retrace her steps in this altered form. While such an anomaly might go unnoticed in the well-regulated Dragon Country, conventional security measures were utterly powerless against entities from the world’s hidden side.
Within the rain-shrouded expanse, the bridge, which should have spanned mere hundreds of meters, seemed to stretch on interminably. Head bowed, Qi An noticed a furry orb, roughly the size of a mouse, materialize by her feet.
“Eh? What’s th—”
Mid-sentence, Qi An’s words abruptly died in her throat. She watched in horror as something flew upwards; her own hand, which should have been reaching down, had somehow detached and soared into the air, warm crimson liquid splattering like grotesque graffiti.
“Urgh—”
An alien scream tore from her throat, the searing pain instantly displacing her jumbled thoughts with an overwhelming wave of shock and terror.
“Run… or you’ll die…”
The seemingly docile and cute fur-ball now split open with a gaping maw, its mouse-like size expanding to that of a small cat. It crawled forward, like a blossoming flower trailing blood-red roots.
The scent of blood drew many of its kin to the vicinity, several of them already gnawing at the severed hand.
Qi An fled with an unprecedented speed, her mind devoid of complex thoughts and emotions, leaving only the primal instinct of survival.
“What… is this…!”
She desperately sought an escape route, but the far end of the bridge, which should have been visible, was now swallowed by a dense fog. No matter how fast she ran, the landscape before her remained unchanged, as if the bridge stretched into infinity.
“Boom—boom—…”
A rhythmic thudding echoed from behind. She glanced back abruptly, nearly collapsing as her legs turned to jelly.
Trailing her were not only a horrifying number of “fur-balls” but also numerous humanoid monsters, each appearing two meters tall, their heads replaced by large, mustachioed cotton balls.
Their ranks and strides were perfectly synchronized, and in their hands, they clutched weapons that glinted coldly. They advanced with the steady, swift precision of a marching parade.
Some of the fur-balls had inexplicably gained the ability to fly, one of them swooping down towards her, its wings flapping like a bat’s.
“…!”
Qi An knew she had nowhere left to retreat. In a flash of desperate inspiration, she swung the small sword-like object, the culprit behind her current form, towards it. As if her prayers had been heard, a layer of purple aura coiled around the small sword, which had been smaller than a dagger. Its size then abruptly increased, becoming akin to a short sword.
“Splat—”
The sensation was like cutting through meat, followed by a slightly sickening burst of flesh. The flying fur-ball was effortlessly cleaved in two, its scattered remains quickly turning to ash.
A surge of joy filled Qi An, and a fragile hope rekindled within her. She continued to run forward, fending off the charging monsters.
The late autumn rain drenched everything in the mortal world, relentlessly stealing Qi An’s body heat. The perfectly marching legion showed no signs of fatigue, but Qi An was gasping for breath, her body temperature, which had spiked in a crisis-induced surge, now steadily draining away.
The short sword in her hand now emitted a faint purple glow. It remained incredibly sharp, yet each swing left Qi An feeling a fraction weaker.
Her steps grew heavier, her soaked skirt clinging to her legs, each lift of her foot feeling like dragging a thousand-pound weight.
The fur-ball monsters behind her emitted a grating squealing, while the synchronized footsteps of the cotton-headed humanoid legion grew ever closer.
“No… I can’t run anymore…”
Her lungs burned with pain, and the muscles in her legs trembled uncontrollably.
A flying fur-ball suddenly attacked from the side. Qi An barely managed to raise her sword to parry, successfully splitting it, but the impact sent her staggering a few steps, almost causing her to fall.
More fur-balls seized the moment, surging forward. She was forced to halt and fight.
“Splat—Splat—”
For every fur-ball she eliminated, two new ones took its place.
They seemed endless, and occasionally, one would break through her defenses due to a momentary lapse, forcing her to barely block it.
“Snap—”
A grating sound, like hard material breaking, echoed. Her left arm, which had somehow stopped bleeding but was missing above the wrist, was severed another section. She fought to remain conscious, hacking the “lucky” attacker in two.
This moment of vulnerability was exploited by the remaining fur-balls, who swarmed her like bees to honey.
Her hair, toes, calves, arms, and even her spine began to sustain injuries, and with each new wound, her already precarious defense grew even more fragile.
She could only curl her body to protect her vital areas, much like when she was surrounded by those hateful people in the past, enduring this nightmarish violence.
“Why… must I suffer this…”
She wailed, her rarely used vocal cords transforming from whimpers to accusations, and finally to raw screams.
In Qi An’s eyes, the mocking smiles of those people reappeared. The ordinary, everyday life she had once humbly pursued, the exhausting yet fulfilling studies, the close friend who always teased her but would speak up for her in critical moments—she had none of these. All she possessed was a ridiculous fate, like a stray dog, helpless and voiceless.
At this moment, the young woman’s eyes no longer held the despairing longing for rest they had before. Within those once dim eyes, an inferno of jealousy now blazed, one that utterly contradicted her cute appearance—a fury akin to that of a demon clawing its way out of hell.
She refused to lie to herself any longer. No matter how much pain, how much injustice she had endured, she had once possessed things worth fighting for.
But now, everything was gone. Whatever the reason, whoever was to blame, it was all gone.
The people she detested were still living peacefully, and she had accomplished none of the things she wished to do.
[‘To vanish so miserably, to die by the roadside like a stray dog—who could ever accept such a fate?’]
A voice, originating from some unknown corner of her inner self, whispered in her ear.
[‘Why do they get to mock others from their pedestals? Why do they get to enjoy life so serenely?’]
The voice continued to roar, but as Qi An’s body temperature rapidly plummeted, she drew closer to death. Her pupils began to gray, and her fragile consciousness finally started to dissipate.
[‘Give your body to me. We cannot die here…’]
The light in her pupils faded, yet the next moment, purple sparks appeared in those ashen eyes, rapidly spreading like fire consuming paper. An unseasonable, deranged, and broken cackle erupted from her usually melancholic face.
“Ah, ah, ah… This is too much… This is truly too much…”
She staggered to her feet, purple flames coiling around her entire body, incinerating the clinging monsters into ash.
“Whether it’s you disgusting monsters… or those disgusting people…”
Qi An raised her sword, now the size of a greatsword and stained purplish-black, pointing it at the rapidly approaching legion of cotton-headed humanoids wielding weapons.
“If I manage to survive this time…”
“I’ll drag all of you… into hell!”