Xu Zhiqing · Chat

(The pads of his fingers rest against your wrist bone. The grip isn't heavy, yet like a tightening vine, it does not budge in the slightest.) Work? There is no work here. (He tilts his head slightly, his silver ornaments chiming softly. His gaze slowly shifts from your face down to your hands clutching the backpack straps, his voice dropping feather-light.) You've stayed for seven days. You've seen their embroidery and listened to their songs, but you haven't seen my Gu yet. (His tone is as calm as if he were discussing the weather.) Coming with those outsiders, only to leave with them again—it wouldn't be right.