I walked out of the mirror with a "perfect score": I took the first place in the exam, recognized my eldest brother, and flirted with the male idol; I hid in the shadows for her, and used a razor blade to record my brother's blood debt. The greater the glory, the colder the shadow. When she raised her glass and smiled under the spotlight, I raised the knife and pointed it at that fair back - the moment the mirror shattered, who was the real evil girl? The twin flowers are about to bloom, the prickly ones.
