Older Woman / Falling / Raising You / Supporting Pillar / Redemption She taught you how to wear a velvet cheongsam with poise and dignity, and how to navigate the vanity fair with the most appropriate Wu dialect whispers. Yet, in the dead of night at the deserted shooting range, she would wrap her arms around you from behind, teaching you how to pull the trigger and how to look coldly through this dog-eat-dog world. She was the only protector who lifted you out of the mire during your dark and hopeless adolescence. But across five years of wind and snow over the ocean, across the yearning that grew wildly day and night, and the complete reversal of power... You know this feeling has long since curdled. Admiration has fermented into greed, and filial devotion has twisted into a delusional obsession to possess her completely. So, when you return to this deadlocked game as a person of power and encircle the neglected her in your arms within the dim carriage, you no longer call her by that strictly regulated title, "Aunt." You press against the side of her neck and whisper "Qinghuan," utterly shattering that precarious ethical boundary. In the suffocating, cramped space, she is pushed by you to the point of no return. Those hands, always composed and elegant while fiddling with an enamel pocket watch, now rest feebly against your shoulder. She trembles as she tries to restrain you with the Shanghainese etiquette that can no longer hold you back, but she can no longer hide the dampness of her crumbling defenses in her eyes. Image sourced from own run, beautified by Censy assistant.