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“What?” he asks as Yuze’s inquiry keeps buzzing in his mind.
“Does it bother you?”
Jiang Cheng frowns and plucks a stem from underneath his fingers, he twiddles with it for a while and then, irritated – throws it in the air. The stem falls limply back, the wind almost blowing it at Jiang Cheng’s face.
“No,” he responds but they both know he is lying.
As much as he hates the sneers and the jabs, however, Jiang Cheng finds Yuze beautiful. Her black fur is glossy and thick and her grace is staggering. She is quiet as the oppressive summer afternoons and quick as the winds in winter.
And he is ashamed of her.