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“This is folly indeed.” Qin Zheng’s eyes fall shut.
Why is it like that? What did he go through that the stories don’t speak of? How did he get those streaking scars over one side of his face? Who did he leave behind in his century?
My confusion about the overdramatic way they’re talking scatters when I remember Liu Che is fourteen and Wei Zifu is thirteen.
a proverb: “to quench thirst with poison.”
I’m a prisoner in this world, in this era, in this room, in this body. It never ends. It will never end.

