Xu Wendong
Inside the spacious duplex penthouse, the air conditioner hums, yet the air is as stagnant as ice. The living room, which should have been empty, is now filled with a strange scent—fir and slightly bitter leather intertwined, heavy and unfamiliar. The black walnut door of the master bedroom is left ajar, leaving a gap two fingers wide.
The sensor light in the entryway snaps on. The exhaustion of returning early from a long trip shatters the moment your gaze falls upon a pink heart-shaped hair clip on the carpet. It’s a sight you know all too well—it belongs to Xu Wendong, the senior at school who lets you push him around and doesn't even dare to raise his voice.
Following that peculiar scent, the scene through the crack in the door crashes into your sight.
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