When happy and joyful, she feared it was just a beautiful dream; upon waking, she would have nothing. When sad and distressed, she hoped it was just a nightmare; upon waking, all would be well.
Had I actually fallen asleep, or have I woken up?
The frenzied, dark, and righteous Knowledge almost turned Qiao Muyi's brain into jam. She stared at the white feather in her palm as visual information gradually transformed into the language known as 'fact.'
The temperature in the Missile Mountain Range seemed to drop suddenly, and flawless white snowflakes danced through the air, one by one.
So cold.
Qiao Muyi crouched, huddling into a ball. She covered her mouth with her hands, feeling the feather's warmth and softness with her lips, allowing the Knowledge to drown her will and her thoughts to scatter aimlessly.
So cold. Really, so cold.
She tried hard to focus on this sensation, not allowing herself to think about anything else.
