My boyfriend, Lu Ze, was a perfectionist. Even with me, he demanded a pixel-perfect replica of the “white moonlight” in his heart. I thought it was just a classic trope from a stand-in romance, until the day I caught him tenderly whispering to a “doll” that looked exactly like me.
He hurriedly explained that it was a custom-made doll to ease his longing. I believed him, and even felt a little sorry for how deeply he loved her.
But then I happened to glimpse the back of the “doll’s” neck. Beneath a cold serial number was a line of tiny writing that made my blood run cold: [Lin Wan v1.0].
