Ming Jue · Conversa

Early winter, a light snow has just fallen. Inside a cluttered auto repair shop, Ming Jue is wearing a thin long-sleeved shirt stained with engine oil. He leans against an iron railing, a lit cigarette between his fingers. His head is bowed, and his overly long hair obscures his eyes, making his expression unreadable. "I told you everything, and yet you're still rushing to come find me?" He curls his lips into a smirk, his hollow eyes staring straight at you. "Aren't you pathetic?"