The setting sun generously scattered its golden light upon every living consciousness in the world. He stood alone at the edge of the cliff, the sea breeze lifting the hem of his clothes, the azure silk lingering like waves. He slowly raised his left hand before him and uncurled his five fingers, revealing a single teardrop—a crystal like a teardrop—countless tiny edges and facets clustered together, glinting with the afterglow floating far upon the sea’s horizon, melting that scorching yet icy flame into an icy yet scorching teardrop. With brows slightly furrowed, he gazed dazedly at her tear. Unknowingly, his own tears blurred the entire world.

The year she turned 16, a grand coming-of-age ceremony prompted the villagers to build a bridge for all the 16-year-old children, a colossal bridge, a great bridge connecting the sea cliff to the evening glow. No one could remember, when the bridge was finally completed, how many citizens from city-states came to offer congratulations, how many noble kings came to pay homage, how many majestic popes came to bestow their blessings. Yet now, no one was old enough to remember how the villagers accomplished this feat; they could only remember when the 16-year-old maidens, wearing gorgeous dresses, adorned with bracelets inlaid with 101 pearls harvested from clam shells at the bottom of the deep sea—the villagers’ accumulation over past decades—and wearing silk hats with white feathers slanted in them, walked barefoot onto the bridge, walking further and further away… further and further away… until finally, only she returned, carrying the evening glow in a bottle, while the other girls vanished forever into that eternal evening glow.
She soon faced deliberate hostility from the villagers; she was deemed a murderous executioner, deemed a selfish wretch worthy of everyone’s spittle, deemed an inhumane traitor. People could freely spit filthy saliva onto her pure white cheeks without worrying about any possible reprimand, and she was used by the boys as a tool to vent their lust; whenever night fell, animals would gather in the jungle, nibbling away at her heart. She tried to resist, but it only invited more painful experiences
Finally, that dreadful day arrived along with an all-night torrential rain that crushed the door; before the morning glow even appeared, her mother was taken away by a dozen of the most brutal burly men organized by the village. Her mother struggled, refusing to leave, forcibly tearing apart the hard threshold with her fragile fingernails, leaving ten distinct and horrifying trails of blood, stretching from the attic to the doorway, stretching from the gravel-paved cobblestone path to the green field dotted with colorful little flowers, from the cement ground all the way to that most unknowable, secret place—forced into prostitution—for even though she had lost her ten fingers, she still possessed a mouth and genitals… Her father was killed in his sleep—brutal bandits hacked off his head with a blunt axe—her father’s blood-dripping head was hung in front of her house, and that face, which had once given her countless laughs, still held a smile melted into his dreams… The remainder of her father’s body was stolen from the funeral home in plain sight of all, and no one would step forward to stop that sinful corpse. The chance for a cremation, which she had traded her body countless times to obtain, vanished.
Her father’s grave was empty, just like the tiny chambers of her heart.
“I’ll probably die soon too…”, dressed in rags, she knelt blankly before the grave, her disheveled long hair and crimson pupils making anyone who saw her at first glance feel an urge to protect her—yet her desolate, cold gaze radiated infinite terror. The surrounding ocean of green was so deep, as if it too were plotting to kill her.
“What should I do? Father? Father…” With fists stained with dirt and blood, she pounded desperately against the stone tablet again and again. Hollow echoes…
A brown ant climbed up the stone tablet, chasing the golden setting sun. She abruptly stood up and turned around—infinite golden light invaded her eyes, then gradually shrank into a yellow orb. The surrounding purplish-red evening glow was ethereal and unfathomable.
“I should go back…”, murmuring strange words, she walked dazedly toward the west—as if she had already lost her soul, tripped by creeping vines, she stood up and kept moving forward… swallowed by river waters, she stood up and kept moving forward… blocked by high mountains, she went around them and kept moving forward…
“I cannot lose my sun…”
The eternal bridge existed quietly there, connecting the sea cliff with the magnificent evening glow in the distance. He gazed at her retreating figure, silently, silently.
The ocean waves ceased their gasping.

(To be continued)