Lies Beneath the Wedding Ring

Cold raindrops clung to her skin like countless slick, wet feelers.

Shen Qingci stood before her elder sister Shen Qingyu’s gravestone. The black marble gleamed after the rain, reflecting a pale, indistinct image of her.

She had no umbrella, letting the rain soak through the oversized black trench coat she wore. It had belonged to her sister.

The air was thick with the earthy stench of mud and the sickly sweetness of lilies on the verge of decay. It all made her want to vomit.

A man in a delivery uniform appeared abruptly at the end of the cemetery path, holding an offensively bright yellow umbrella.