The street was empty. Only one shop had a lantern hanging outside, its weak light flickering, barely giving any warmth to the dark night.
Zinara was still quietly crying, but she had moved to a corner where the wind was less strong. Before, the cold wind blew from all directions with no place to hide. Now, at least the wall blocked the wind from behind.
She squatted at the shop's door, pressing herself into her down jacket to keep a little warmer. Her sobs mixed with the falling snow, and the atmosphere slowly softened.
Before she could calm down, the lantern above her finally fell from the cold wind.
It almost hit Zinara's head.
She was so scared she forgot how to cry.
Even more frightening was what happened next. Zinara wiped her tears and watched the only light in the dark night go out right before her eyes.
Just like that, the light was gone. No chance to save it.
The night fully covered the street. Zinara's small eyes blinked, unable to see the unclear surroundings. Her 200-degree nearsightedness made it worse, as if demons and ghosts danced in the shadows, waiting to strike.
She silently repeated, "Prosperity, democracy, civilization, harmony, freedom, equality, justice, rule of law, patriotism, dedication, integrity, friendliness."
It was past midnight, and the scariest sound was a cat's cry.
As feared, the cat cried loudly.
Zinara's body hairs stood on end. She jumped up from the ground and ran somewhere by instinct.
She shouted, "Mom, there's a ghost!"
"Brother! Help!"
"Sister Yi! Wah!"
She didn't know how long she ran. When her fear eased a little, she finally stopped.
Zinara put her hands on her waist and breathed heavily.
After eating a bun to regain energy, she realized she had used all her strength running.
But her view had become clearer and brighter.
She looked up and suddenly froze.
The bright red door!
Carved beams and painted buildings!
And around the door were lotus-shaped stone lanterns, perfectly carved and solemn. The hollow lotus centers held candles burning brightly, not weakened by the cold wind.
Zinara pulled her collar up and hid half her face inside her down jacket. She blinked. Though the setting felt strange and eerie, the warm candlelight inside the lotus lanterns called to her frozen body. Her survival instinct slowly pushed her closer to the door.
Zinara came to one lotus lantern and stared at the small flame inside. The warm yellow light showed her soft face. She pressed her lips into a smile.
Then, with cold hands trembling, she slowly reached out to the candle. Feeling the burning pain in her palm, she quickly pulled back.
She looked around. There were sixteen lanterns in total.
Taking a deep breath, she seemed to make a decision. She looked at the red door with apology, then bowed deeply sixteen times.
Soft words whispered from her lips.
Sorry for taking your light.
Sorry, I was too cold.
Zinara took the candles out of the lotus lantern one by one. While stealing the candles, she remembered the strict lessons from her elders. Stealing is stealing, no excuses.
Thinking about her obedient sixteen years, she cried again for making a big mistake for the first time.
She put the candles in a sheltered corner nearby. It was not that she wanted to run after stealing, but she felt scared looking at the quiet surroundings.
Zinara leaned against the wall and curled up, sniffled quietly, staying still like a mushroom that suddenly grew in a hidden corner.
The candles formed a circle in front of her, the bright flames gathering. Though the heat was not like a charcoal stove, on this cold winter night, it was the warmest she could find.
With her safety temporarily secured, Zinara finally calmed down. She tried to recall the scenes from the story she saw, but the more she thought, the more unclear the story became.
She gradually forgot not only the faces of the characters but even their names disappeared from her mind.
She only remembered being taken home by someone, falling in love at first sight, but he was tangled with his ex-fiancée.
In the end, she was deeply devoted, wondering if in this male-heavy world, she could truly grow old alone.
Zinara whispered, "..."
I actually have a love-brain!
Impossible, impossible.
She shook her head like a rattle.
Zinara thought no matter how handsome that young man was, no matter how much she loved someone, if it was not right, she should let go.
How could there be anyone in this world worth waiting for, even if it meant growing old alone?
The more she thought, the more her head ached. Under the candlelight, she closed her eyes and breathed softly.
Vaguely, she was awakened by the sound of wheels. She thought about how someone was rushing home late at night.
She wanted to open her eyes to see but her drowsy mind could not hold on.
Before falling asleep, a clear male voice came through the hood of the down jacket.
"Master, look."
A luxurious carriage stopped in front of the main gate. The person inside just lifted the curtain.
His cold and deep eyes were immediately drawn to the bright light beside the gate.
He stared for a long time, as if studying the person wrapped in the light.
In her sleep, Zinara felt like she was holding a warm water bag, very warm and comfortable.
She pressed closer without thinking and rubbed against it.
This sleep was very comfortable. Just two nights ago, she had been sleeping rough on the streets.
Now she was actually sleeping on a bed.
Zinara turned over drowsily and felt the dream was too real.
This bed, this quilt, this pillow.
She reached out to touch it, the soft feeling, so real...
Suddenly awake, Zinara turned over and sat up on the bed.
Looking down, her down jacket was still on her body.
Only her hair was loose now, with a single strand standing up from shock.
She looked around the room. It was decorated in an antique style.
By the bed near the window was a simple dressing table.
Opposite the bed was a table with two wooden stools. The setup was simple and neat, likely a guest room.
At that moment, the door was gently knocked.
A hoarse voice in its fifties, worn by time, came from outside.
"Young master, are you awake?"
Young master?
Hearing this, Zinara did not know whether to be glad she had not revealed her identity or to feel amazed that her clear and pure face had been mistaken for a boy again and again.