Jiang Han looked at the image of 'herself,' and a feeling of sudden realization arose within her—but it was not a mood. Moods were beyond one's control.
Emotions, however, could be controlled.
"I see," Jiang Han said.
Rustle... The ratfolk girl's gown made a sound. Her left leg and left arm showed a sickly pallor and seemed to have lost their function. She stared over at Jiang Han, her gaze filled with scrutiny and curiosity.
She asked, "Jiang Han?"
If someone called out one's own name, one ought to answer without the slightest hesitation.
Jiang Han had always thought so.
But now, it was completely different.
Answering felt like a thief had stolen something, then brazenly flaunted it before its rightful owner.
This isn't right, Jiang Han thought.
A smile suddenly appeared on the ratfolk girl's icy face. In a tone as though she were severing herself from the past, she said, "Now, my name is Xu Fangying."
"..."
Jiang Han realized something, and her eyes reddened slightly. "Could that really be enough?"
Xu Fangying's rat tail supported her as she walked. She staggered over.
"We are Witches."
As though affirming something, she approached and reached out to touch Jiang Han's face.
"The strong devouring the weak is savagery; ethics and morality are civilization; being strong without and restrained within is a Witch. Are you now no more than a thin illusion? Sister, I miss home. I want to go home. For two hundred and ninety-five years, I... have thought of going home every moment."
She fell silent for a moment.
"Our mothers were called Ye Keshu, weren't they? They were called... Jiang Xuan, weren't they? Are they well? Are they still..."
A photographic memory was a Witch's trait.
Xu Fangying had lost that trait.
She knew it too. Nearly