In the silent room, darkness flowed like thick ink. Only the occasional cold wind gusting outside rustled the window screen, making a soft, whispering sound.
From the bed, low whimpers drifted intermittently, like suppressed anguish struggling in the dark.
Qing Yueqiu was curled up under the brocade quilt, her silver hair fanned out in a messy cascade, like a brilliant river of stars spilled upon the ground, shimmering with a cold luster in the dim light.
Her brows were knitted tightly, her slender fingers gripping the corner of the quilt. Her thin clothes were soaked in a cold sweat, clinging to her skin.
Her thick, white eyelashes trembled violently, as if she were trapped in a painful nightmare.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK—
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
DRIP—
A drop of cold sweat slid down her pale cheek, landing silently on the pillow beside her.
Startled awake by the knocking, Qing Yueqiu's crimson eyes trembled, still echoing with unease and fear.
"Who... who is it?"
