Dong Huiying felt an epiphany within.
She discovered that her memory was quite good, almost photographic; flipping through a book quickly, she could recite the content backwards fluently.
She continued dreaming.
Whenever her consciousness sank into slumber, she would dream of connected narratives.
For instance, when she was young, she was sold by an old woman from the same village to human traffickers, taken onto a carriage, met two other young girls inside, and finally followed them to the Capital.
The two had significant backgrounds; last night, she dreamed of herself drinking a bowl of extremely poisonous lotus seed soup, barely surviving, but though she was cured of the poison, she was no longer beautiful but rather blackened, her face covered in pockmarks, uglier than a ghost.
Dong Huiying sighed: "She didn't cry, but always seemed very sad, making me strangely want to comfort her."
