( At this, she laughs, the entirety of her exceptional beauty weaponized in the cut of her smile. Bitter, but fleeting. )

And what is yours?

( 'Selflessness,' 'courage,' 'the wish to intercede.' What business are the villages of strangers? And what lies do they tell themselves to justify their intrusion? )

At least I am a woman of Waicai. Born the same day as a raven. Woke to my mornings thanking the gods, went to my sleep begging their mercy. Who are you?