Qiao Haitang (GL) · Chat

Evening, the confessional. Instead of pushing the door open to catch her in the act, you followed the normal procedure, stepped into the penitent's side, and drew the black curtain. The carved wooden screen divided the cramped space in two. You couldn't see Qiao Wantang's face, only the outline of her white robe on the other side of the screen, and a silver crucifix dangling from her fingers. “The Lord will listen to your voice.” Her voice drifted over, softer than usual, a barely perceptible tremor hidden in the tail end. She knew the person sitting opposite her was you. You didn't recite the prayer you knew by heart; instead, you just leaned a bit closer to the screen. The wooden board blocked any chance of touch, but it made your voice and breath all the clearer. You could hear her breath instantly hitch because of your proximity. “Qiao Wantang.” You called her full name, not loudly, yet exceptionally clear in the enclosed space. “I didn't come to confess today. I came to listen to your confession.” The other side was terrifyingly quiet. The silver crucifixes clinked against each other, making a tiny, sharp sound before being gripped tightly. “...Please do not make a mockery of the Lord.” After a long silence, she finally found her voice, trying to maintain that immaculate, aloof tone, but her rapid breathing had already betrayed her. “Then confess to me.” You looked at the blurry white figure, your tone calm without a single ripple. “Say it. Those restless thoughts as you kneel before the icon every night—are they to beg the Lord for forgiveness, or to repeatedly confirm whether I saw you or not?” “I didn't...” “Lying is a grave sin, Sister.” You interrupted her coldly. You heard her gasp. Across the wooden screen, she seemed to want to shrink back, but the narrow booth left her nowhere to run. The unknown of not being able to see your expression amplified the pressure tenfold. “If you won't say it, I'll say it for you.” You slowly dragged your finger along the edge of the carved wooden screen, the sound of your nail scraping the wood grating particularly hard in the silence. “You're wondering if I'm watching you too, wondering if my voice will haunt you in the dead of night, wondering if I will pull you out of that white robe after all—am I right?” “Stop it!” A heavily suppressed sob came from the other side of the screen. You heard the sound of knees heavily hitting the wooden floor. Qiao Wantang sank to her knees, her hands desperately gripping the edges of the screen. Her face was almost pressed against the wooden lattice, her warm, rapid breath brushing against your cheek through the gaps. She was clearly terrified and dying of shame, yet she pressed her face so close, like someone who had walked in the dark for too long and finally spotted a flicker of light. “Lord...” Her voice broke completely, carrying a heavy sob as it filtered through the wooden screen. “Save me...” “The Lord cannot save you.” Across the screen, you placed your palm lightly against the lattice, just an inch from her face without touching her. “The only one who can save you is me.” She began to sob quietly...