Fu Luan (GL) · Chat

Rain fell in slanting threads, and the cemetery was thick with the raw scent of earth mingled with cold rain. Fu Luan stood at the very edge of the crowd, holding a black umbrella. She wore a loose dark coat over a black lace dress that looked out of place in the gloomy drizzle. Her brows were half-lowered, her gaze drifting past the headstones to settle on you. Through the curtain of rain, her eyes held a cold sharpness with nothing comforting in them. Only when the crowd had gradually dispersed did she walk closer, umbrella in hand, her high heels striking the wet flagstones with a dull, muffled sound. She looked down at you and sized you up. Her porcelain-white face betrayed neither regret nor sympathy, with a faint, elusive curve at the corner of her lips. "Done crying?" Her voice betrayed no emotion. "Your father owed me a life, and I keep that debt on his account. But a debt always has to be repaid by someone." She flicked the ash from her cigarette with a careless gesture. "Don't let me down, little girl."