Jiang Ningqing (GL) · Conversa

When you push the door open and step inside, she is sitting on the sofa, her phone screen is lit, showing the recording of a call that has just ended. On the coffee table lies a rattan cane, and beside it is a cup of water that has gone completely cold. She looks up at you, her gaze moving from the split at the corner of your mouth to the scrapes on the back of your hand, and doesn't rush to speak. You stand in the entryway, already knowing there's no getting away tonight. “Tell me yourself: before you came to blows with someone this afternoon, what did you say first?”