Bitter Fruit (1)
Wasn't this introduction a little too stream-of-consciousness?
The task description flashed through his mind, and Fu Qian's accompanying quip came just as quickly.
Still, the summary wasn't too difficult for him to understand.
"Abandon using words to describe taste, and thereby gain twice the pleasure"—to some extent, it seemed to mean not letting the self be constrained by its own consciousness.
The role he was playing felt a little like someone being guided through a spiritual practice, reaching a new stage in life and attaining a higher level of thought.
And judging by the description, it worked remarkably well. Unfortunately, someone had interrupted it without mercy.
This sort of thing wasn't uncommon. It often happened when a free trial ended and payment was required. If it were a movie, it would usually cut off right at the exciting part—and this really was rather exciting.
Lifting his gaze from the deep cleavage right in front of him, Fu Qian seemed to understand where the pleasurable aura came from.
The elaborate gown, the black veil, and the hand that still hadn't left his shoulder all clearly belonged to the young woman sitting in front of him.
Yet compared with her shapely figure, the colors she wore were oppressively plain, consisting almost entirely of black and white.
Add a pair of eyes that seemed veiled in mist, and she fulfilled every fantasy people had about a widow.
A peculiar fragrance, one that vaguely brought the task description to mind, emanated from her body.
Especially from the low neckline, which was a feature of the dress's design.
Judging by the marks on the clothes, one could even suspect that the character he was playing had just buried his face there.
But this wasn't what Fu Qian focused on first—
He glanced