The Wistful Petal
The blood was in the ink again, Qiang Guo thought, watching the red smear spread across the petition he had just signed. It was a small thing, a drop no larger than a pinhead, but it ruined the script, the elegant strokes of his name bleeding into the parchment like a stain that would never wash out. He looked at his left hand, the one that trembled slightly as he held the quill. The skin there...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews