"Tasha, how did you run into Amanda Smith?" Samuel Johnson sat on the edge of the bed peeling an apple for her. He had been pampered since childhood, never having peeled an apple himself, and now, with one cut, he had sliced off half of the flesh. He looked at the ugly apple in his hand, clicked his tongue, and thought it strange. How could Amanda Smith peel an apple so neatly for him to eat, yet when it came to his hands, it became so disobedient?
"Didn't I tell you not to pay any attention to her?" He threw the apple into the trash can and said to Tasha Moore, "Don't be fooled by that woman's demeanor; she's full of tricks. You're so fragile; if you cross paths with her, she'll eat you alive!"
"I..." Tasha Moore lowered her eyes slightly. How could she admit that she had intentionally sought out Amanda's magazine just to meet Amanda Smith and that a few words from Amanda had made her so angry that her heart condition acted up, how embarrassing? And it was also she who had harbored ill intent from the beginning; it wasn't really Amanda Smith's fault...
"I had a magazine interview today, and I didn't expect it would be her coming to interview me."
"Magazine interview?" Samuel Johnson frowned and snorted. "It must be that guy who saw it was you and deliberately came to interview you! That woman is extremely crafty!"
"Probably..." Tasha Moore went along with what he said, then reached out to hold Samuel's hand, looked up at him with soft and weak eyes, "Samuel, you would never get together with her, right?"
Samuel Johnson was held by both her hands, and his heart softened. He pulled her into his embrace and kissed her forehead, "What are you thinking? How could I possibly get together with her? Is my taste that bad?"
Tasha Moore smiled, stretched out her fair arms to wrap around the man's neck and kissed his face, "That's good, you promised, you're going to marry me!"
"If I said I'll marry you, I will. What, are you scared I won't?"
**************************************
Evan Willow found Amanda Smith in a corner of the bar.
She was leaning on the bar with her chin propped up on her hands, with several empty bottles already piled up beside her. The lighting in the bar was dim, and as she slightly turned her face to the side, her soft long hair obscured her cheek, making it hard to see her expression.
But one could still feel her sadness.
Even without any distinct sounds, it seemed as though even the lights flowing over her carried sadness, and the shadow she cast on the floor was damp. Evan Willow slowly walked over to her, took the glass from her hand, and said in a gentle voice, "Alright, Amanda, no more drinking."
Amanda Smith wasn't drunk, only slightly tipsy. She glanced up at Evan Willow and chuckled softly, "Evan, you're still so enchanting..."
The man in front of her was dressed in a pale blue Tang suit, his long hair hanging down to his waist. The obscure and hazy lighting flowed over him, giving him an ink-painting-like poetic grace.
Evan Willow ignored her teasing, just gently brushed her long hair aside and said in a low voice, "It's getting late, you should go home now..." His hand paused slightly.
As he brushed aside her hair, he saw the palm print on Amanda Smith's face.
The lighting was so dark, yet the palm print appeared to be etched on her face, grotesquely tightening his eyes for a moment.
"What is this..." His eyes darkened slightly.
Amanda Smith let her hair fall to cover her face, her smile a bit stiff, "It's nothing, I..."
"Did he do this?"