The last ray of the setting sun was slowly sinking against the ruined walls of the ancient city. The rusty copper bell was struck by the wind, and the sound was hoarse like a sob.
The girl hugged half of the gilt mask with interlaced cracks and huddled on the remaining bricks of the tower. The wind blew withered grass fragments and blew across her cheeks, which were purple from the cold. The tear stains had long since been blown away, leaving only two shallow white marks. The cloud pattern on the mask faded, and in the dim light, it looked like a scar that could never be healed.
The bells sounded one after another, spreading over the bluestone slabs overgrown with grass, across the closed red lacquer door under the city, and across her empty palms.
She had counted the bells and waited for his return, waiting for him to take off his mask and ruffle her hair with a smile. But now, the setting sun will set and the bells will stop ringing. Only the mask in her arms is getting colder and colder, as cold as his fingertips that will never be warm again.
She opened her chapped lips, and her voice was so soft that it was about to be torn apart by the wind: "Can you come back?"
The wind passed through the broken window lattice, making a whimpering sound, but there was no response. There was only the sound of the bell, still ringing, ringing this lonely city, ringing her unspoken, endless wait.
Intention: love
