A mask fell to the ground, pure white in color, shaped like half of a human face.
"Sorry."
After apologizing, Wen Changling took advantage of the lack of a crowd to quickly pick up the mask. Only then did she raise her head to see a face framed by a black scarf, the skin so pale it resembled that of a vampire who lurked only at night.
There was a simile, not quite appropriate, but Wen Changling thought it very fitting to describe Jiang Chengxue at night—he was like a delicate human skin draped over a skeleton, lacking the sensation of flesh and blood.
"Wen Changling."
Jiang Chengxue pronounced her name, clear and rounded, mixed with laughter.
Wen Changling still held his mask, thinking about something and forgot to return it. He said something, but the light was too dim and the surroundings too noisy for Wen Changling to hear clearly or read his lips.
