The Glass Skirt

A game of love, where the mantis stalks the cicada and the oriole waits behind.

“Marry me. If you say yes, great. If not, I'll think of something.”

“Then think of something.”

He was a camel separated from its herd in the desert, enduring hunger and thirst as he trudged along alone.

The wind swept the sand around him. In the distance, there was always an unreachable oasis. She was its landmark tree, standing in the wind, keeping a lonely vigil.

There were always whispers in the wind, carrying yellow sand and the lonely desert breeze to his ears.

“It's all a mirage.”

But he struggled forward, step by step. It was an obsession: if he ate her, he could save himself, but if he saved himself, she would surely die.

Her roots were tangled deep, her branches swayed over every grain of sand, and thorns covered her from head to toe. She hoped that any creature in this desert would give him hope and obsession, then give him despair and send him pain.

This was her tribulation, and his as well.

People who have just fallen in love don't understand love. -- Zhao Benshan (You can ignore this line)

That's the blurb. I can't give away any more, so read it yourself and don't be lazy!

A workplace story with a small-time farming focus, leaning more toward realism.

Please don't dig up and repost.

Other works by 4P: Burning Universe (ongoing), Love Built on the Knife's Edge (completed), The Landlord (not yet started), and Portrait of a Boy (not yet started).

Recommended: The Male Internet Celebrity Who Loves Causing Trouble and Redemption.

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