"I was performing my ritual of sipping tea, shooting flirtatious glances and planning murder"

― Mingmei Yip, Peach Blossom Pavillion

                                                      ●▬Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ▬●

      They say a single night with her was enough to ignite the world.

      "I have a confession," the man's voice was lowered in a whisper, nearly causing Shiragiku's lips to curl upwards in coquettish amusement. Instead, she leaned in and allowed his lips to slobber over her ear as she feigned curiosity. "I thought of you all night."

      She giggled into her hand, pushing back her black hair so it tucked in between her scalp and her ear. "When you with her?" 

      Her eyes were wide with innocence, and his fingers trailed over her cheek while his other hand undid the bindings of her dress.

      Ming was a rather handsome one, and the hearts of those infatuated with her always were the sweetest. With that in mind, she didn't much care if his lips were rough or if his hands weren't very gentle. He was known for hopping brothels when she was preoccupied with others, but it didn't matter to her who he fucked as long as he waited outside her door like a broken dog.

      His hand on her chest, cupping her breast so roughly, made her lean forward. She ran her tongue over his bottom lip with a giggle. "You thought of me the entire time?"

      He smiled, and she focused her eyes on the winkles under his eyes. Moments later, she felt her thighs grip onto his weakening hips as her hands clutched into his sore shoulders. The weaker he got, the stronger she felt.

      It didn't matter. It didn't matter that his skin was wrinkling and his eyes were shadowed with bags. As long as he threw the coins her way, she didn't care if he liked to cry afterwards and bitch about how he wanted to run away with her.

      Simply, she didn't see Ming as a person. She didn't see the calluses or battle scars on his wrinkled skin. She just pictured the gold indent of his satchel full of money squishing against her palms. She saw his enlarged heart, desperate for her affection.

      "I'm in love with you," Ming murmured into Shiragiku's neck and she giggled again.

      "I love you too," Shiragiku's words were light, riddled with earnest emotion—but not towards Ming—towards his wallet that would soon be hers.

      He took her roughly that night, and when she felt him fall asleep beside her. She slid the sheets off her body and placed her palm flat on his chest. She could hear his steady heartbeat suddenly turn irregular when she touched the skin that created a shield from her fingers. She placed her ear against his ribcages and she noticed his skin wrinkle where her hands brushed.

      She glanced up towards his face as her ink colored hair cascaded down her shoulders. It blanketed over her skin and his as she slid her knee in between his legs and ran her hands over his chest. She noticed his eyes slightly fight to open, but he was far too weak to finish the job.

"Can you sing me a lullaby?" he asked and her lips curled into a smile. "The one you were singing the night we met..." His voice was scratchy and she began to wonder if he knew he was about to die.

      But she sang it anyway, darting her hands next to the basket of red flowers that rested next to the mat. Her fingers wrapped around the stem and her hand slithered against his chest. Her song didn't break or crack and her black hair that blanketed the both of them in long dark strands began to fade to white. In one hand rested the flower while her other extended with long claws. Her right hand tore through his ribcage as if his skin and bones were as easy to dig through as mud. Her nails sank into his chest like rippling water and she ripped his heart from his middle.

       Her lullaby ended and placed the flower where the heart had been.

      "Thank you for loving me." She whispered staring at his bleeding red heart that sent droplets of blood down her breasts and her stomach.

      Infatuation and lust tasted delicious, but nothing was as sweet as a heart drenched in the blood of a man in love. She ran her tongue over the heart as if it were melon, rich with juices.

      And then she bit down, her canines extending like a rabid animal.