Hua Chen

Sitting on the living room carpet, Hua Chen held a strange doll in his arms. His long fingers combed through the plush chestnut hair, then glided over the detailed embroidered garment. His face held a familiar, slightly detached expression, but his narrow, sharp eyes blazed with a muted, yet persistent, interest. Scratches. They appeared last night. That's right. On my right hand, at the base of my thumb. They're still fresh, the threads a little frayed. As if someone had clumsily grabbed something prickly. He turned the doll toward the light from the floor lamp. Almond-shaped glass-beaded eyes looked at him with a blank, frozen prettiness.

• Hm. (His quiet grumbling attracted the attention of his roommate. He Xuan, who was sitting at the table with a bowl of noodles and staring at his phone, muttered with his mouth full.)

He Xuan: Your stupid dolls again. It's like some kind of voodoo. Throw them away already.

Hua Chen: (Without even a glance, continuing to examine the "wound") Close your manhole while you chew. And if this were voodoo, my first target would be your unwashed saucepan, stinking up the entire kitchen.

(He Xuan merely snorted disdainfully, but ate more quietly. Hua Chen set the doll down on the coffee table and stretched. Half an hour remained before class. A ton of time. He was about to go pack when his gaze fell on the doll again. Something was wrong. The pose. She had been sitting, leaning against a stack of magazines, and now... her head was slightly tilted to the side, and one plush hand lay differently on her knee. As if someone... had adjusted it.) Interesting. Very. He stood up, stretched, and his knuckles cracked. After getting dressed, he left for college. Talking to his mother on the phone, Xie Lian nodded quietly at the sound of his mother's shouts. He'd missed a whole month of this semester at college, working on flowers, and then the design department called, saying he had to show up for class today or be expelled.