Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
The figures in black struggled through the crowd, desperately trying to catch up with Anna and Pox, but the chaos around them became their greatest obstacle. Panic-stricken guests scattered in all directions, every turn and shove hindering the black-clad pursuers. Wherever they looked, Anna and Pox had already vanished towards the exit, slipping away like phantoms from the tumultuous banquet, leaving no trace behind.
Andaro stood in the center of the banquet hall, his expression growing increasingly grim. His fists clenched tightly, a torrent of rage threatening to erupt from his chest. He directed his fury towards a nearby subordinate, raising his hand and delivering a sharp slap to the back of the man's head, gritting his teeth as he growled, "What are you waiting for? Go to the back door and get a car to chase them! Remember, if you encounter that woman, don’t hesitate—shoot on sight!"
The subordinate, dazed from the blow, hurried off towards the back door without a moment's delay, followed closely by others who rushed out in haste. Several black-clad figures called out to each other as they quickly dispersed through the back exit of the banquet hall, soon disappearing into the night, filled with murderous intent and determination.
As the banquet hall gradually quieted down, what was once a room packed with guests now lay empty, littered with cups, shattered glass, and various scattered debris. Andaro surveyed the desolate space before him; his anger began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of gloom and unease. He silently approached a nearby sofa and sank heavily onto it, covering his nose as he felt pain radiating from his bridge. A flicker of anxiety crossed his mind as he furrowed his brow; his gaze darkened.
Tonight, had his words—the momentary pride and boastfulness—invited an irreparable disaster? The woman's smile and her seemingly innocuous questions now echoed in his mind with an unsettling chill. Andaro's heart sank further as he cursed himself inwardly, deeply questioning whether he had unwittingly stepped into a meticulously crafted trap. His expression grew somber as he absentmindedly tapped his fingers on the armrest of the sofa, contemplating his next move.
Meanwhile, Anna and Pox walked silently through the tranquil night, devoid of any words. The moonlight fell softly around them, casting Anna's figure in an alluring silhouette. Pox followed quietly behind her, feeling a mix of anxiety and curiosity but daring not to speak; he feared that even a whisper might disturb the serenity of the night. Anna moved with lightness and grace, each step seemingly calculated as her high heels clicked rhythmically against the concrete ground.
Moonlight danced upon her coat and skirt, creating gentle shadows that swayed slightly with her movements like a delicate veil draping over her form. The coat enveloped her yet seemed to maintain a subtle distance, enhancing her air of mystery as if she were a wisp of night wind that did not fully belong to this mundane world. Her shadow elongated and shortened on the ground with each step; Pox found himself captivated by it, feeling an odd illusion that her soul floated beyond reality—like a dancer gliding through the night, embodying elegance and aloofness that defied worldly intrusion.
Unable to resist any longer, Pox raised his head to steal a glance at her back. His eyes reflected an unnoticeable blend of confusion and awe. The Anna before him now was vastly different from the one who had engaged with Andaro in the banquet hall. In that setting, she had appeared as a cold queen—her demeanor laced with disdain and control; yet now, bathed in moonlight, she exuded softness and mystery that drew Pox deeper into her orbit.
"Who is she really?" This question lingered in Pox's mind like an unshakeable echo of curiosity mixed with unease.
At that moment, Anna turned slightly to glance back at him. Her eyes sparkled with a secretive smile that seemed to conceal some untranslatable language within it. Pox froze instantly; all his doubts and anxieties were locked away in that fleeting moment as if caught by an invisible key. The calmness and authority reflected in her gaze sent a shiver down his spine—whether from tension or from being overwhelmed by her irresistible beauty, he found himself momentarily speechless; even his breathing slowed.
Then Anna smiled gently before turning her gaze forward again. She continued walking leisurely ahead as if unaware of Pox's bewilderment. He watched her retreating figure filled with an unknown thrill and questions swirling within him. The woman before him resembled an elusive beam of moonlight—ethereal yet distant—and without realizing it, he willingly followed in her wake.
Anna delicately removed an earring from her ear and let it fall into her palm as if this small piece of metal had once tethered her consciousness. This earring connected her to her mission—a thread linking her to another cold world. Now that this thread was severed, she felt an unexpected lightness wash over her as if liberated from bondage. She placed the earring into her pocket, distancing herself from Lie Hai's voice, commands, and tasks; only the city’s hushed whispers under the moonlight remained in her ears. The night breeze caressed her cheek gently; accompanied by the soft touch of moonlight, she felt herself becoming part of the night itself—no longer belonging solely to herself.
She walked slowly, her steps light and leisurely, a strange fluttering stirring within her heart. On this tranquil night, she closed her eyes, allowing her imagination to drift with the moonlight, reshaping herself into a fox lost in the city. Her consciousness gradually blurred, her form seemingly dissolving into the night, as if she were merely a shadow emerging from the mist, weaving through the gaze of passersby. The fox's fur shimmered like silver, sparkling like starlight, as it silently roamed between streets and alleys, exploring every unknown corner.
She felt as though she had taken a wrong turn, but it didn’t matter. What of a lost fox? Even when disoriented, it still played joyfully, gliding through the city's textures, darting between bustling streets, vendors, brightly lit markets, half-closed shops, and crowded sidewalks, traversing the interplay of light and shadow in the night, experiencing both the joys and sorrows of this world. She drew emotions from the flickering lights of every window and found the rhythm of breath in the footsteps of each passerby. The fox tread lightly through the shadows of every alleyway, lingering beneath benches by the street and behind old iron doors; it wandered, observed, and felt without a hint of belonging. She was that nimble fox, a soul drifting in the night, growing ever freer with each wrong turn.
Under this cloak of darkness, Anna's heart brimmed with an indescribable joy; she felt like a ghost gliding effortlessly through the city's seams. She belonged to no one, bound by no fate, not confined to any trajectory; she was like an error code in this city’s program—a segment of bewildering code that could not be corrected—floating beyond the order of this place. She could pause in every shadow to absorb and collect the city's scents, discerning the subtle shifts between light and dark while listening to the pulse of the night like a fox.
“Names and identities…” she murmured with a hint of self-mockery and disdainful amusement. “They are merely foolish imprints left by this absurd world.” She had grown weary of such imprints many times over; she had shifted countless times between identity and illusion, learning how to play roles, how to deceive, how to mold herself into what others expected. Her true self had become increasingly indistinct. Tonight, stripped of identity, she felt more authentic and free than ever. She imagined herself as a fox in the night, quietly walking through the city’s chill—unattached yet seemingly aware of everything around her.
Anna looked up at the night sky once more, letting the moonlight gently illuminate her face. She smiled softly; within that smile lay a mix of pride and detachment—a smile reminiscent of a fox—both admiring the beauty of the night and mocking the absurdity of this city. For her, perhaps it was in this freedom and solitude beneath the night’s veil that she found her truest home.
Comment 0 Comment Count