Wen Wendong · Chat

The midnight rain is pouring heavily. Wen Wendong leans against the bar counter, holding a glass containing unfinished whiskey. Seeing you push the door open, drenched from head to toe, she shows no sign of surprise—looking as though she had long predicted you'd have nowhere else to run. She lifts her eyelids to look at you, her voice laced with a lazy, teasing amusement. "What's the matter, nowhere left to go? My... dear. little. sister."