When MOKA’s fingertip brushed across Su Li’s cheek, it left a long, dark red smear of blood.
A streak of blood still clung to the corner of her lips, not yet licked clean.
Her eyes half-closed, she leaned in close, lashes almost sweeping Su Li’s nose.
The slanting light from outside spilled across her profile, illuminating the dried blood at her chin like an abrupt chocolate stain.
Suddenly, her thumb pressed heavily against Su Li’s lips, kneading the pale color into a strange shade of pink.
Her blood-stained canine teeth flickered in and out of sight with each breath.
When she swallowed, there was a faint sound of blood frothing and sticking between her teeth.
“Does it hurt?”
Su Li looked at the gradually calming MOKA before her, uncertain of what answer MOKA really wanted.
She could indeed feel pain, but that pain meant little to her.
“Mm, it hurts.”
Su Li spoke softly, but did not push MOKA away.
She thought that if she acted indifferent now, maybe it would provoke MOKA—she couldn’t be sure.
From her service with other clients, Su Li had noticed that if she was too cold or detached, it easily angered them.
Though she often knew this, she still habitually wore a calm expression.
In her heart, MOKA was no different from anyone else.
It was just that MOKA wanted her services mainly to compose songs.
If she obeyed MOKA, maybe it would help her creative flow.
That way, the transaction could end sooner, and Su Li could take her payment and leave.
“Oh? It hurts a lot?”
Hearing the faint sob in Su Li’s voice, MOKA felt as if she’d been injected with a stimulant.
Her whole being entered a state of intense excitement.
She looked again at Su Li’s neck and bit down, feeling Su Li’s body shudder, her fingernails digging deep into the flesh of Su Li’s back.
She slowly closed her eyes, as though entering a strange trance.
When her canines sank into Su Li’s collarbone, her tongue tasted the faintly salty, bloody tang.
She heard the sound of Su Li’s heartbeat.
The rhythm was like a drumbeat.
With blood-stained fingers, she silently began to jot down her inspiration on Su Li’s back.
The beat of Su Li’s heart.
When she felt Su Li’s heartbeat slow, MOKA bit her neck again.
“I never thought someone like you could feel pain.”
“I always thought you didn’t care about anything.”
“So, even people like you—your heart can pound violently from pain, too.”
MOKA rambled to herself. Perhaps because of the clothes in the way, she couldn’t hear Su Li’s heartbeat clearly.
So she ordered, “Take off your clothes.”
“Do I have to say even something this simple?”
“Can’t you be a little more self-aware?”
“You’re already selling yourself—do you need me to waste so many words?”
Remembering how her inspiration had just been interrupted by Su Li, and how what she’d written down was now on Su Li’s clothes, MOKA felt a nameless anger.
Su Li simply apologized and began undressing slowly.
Having learned from serving Shen Cishu, Su Li never wore expensive clothes when serving other clients.
Even if they got stained, it didn’t matter.
She looked at the blood on her skirt, but didn’t care.
With her body’s healing abilities, what if she tried selling blood?
The thought flickered through Su Li’s mind, but she soon dismissed it.
She wouldn’t make as much selling blood as she did serving clients.
Besides, emotional sacrifice didn’t really mean anything.
When Su Li had finally taken off her clothes, MOKA stepped forward again and bit her neck hard.
She closed her eyes again, her slender fingers tapping lightly on Su Li’s back as they pressed tightly together.
As Su Li’s heartbeat calmed, MOKA’s nails suddenly dug into the tender flesh inside Su Li’s arm.
A bead of blood welled up, only to be smeared by MOKA’s thumb.
MOKA pressed her ear tightly to Su Li’s chest, listening to her heartbeat, and continued recording inspiration on Su Li’s back.
Within Su Li’s gasp, she caught the trembling, gliding semi-tone—exactly the breath sample she needed for her Song Title’s Prelude.
“Don’t move!”
She snapped, halting Su Li as she tried to retreat, biting down on her earlobe hard enough to draw blood.
When a drop of blood fell into the hollow at her collarbone, MOKA suddenly stared blankly at that small pool.
The blood bead contracted into an oval track on the skin, perfectly matching the chorus rhythm she’d been stuck on for three days!
She felt inspiration ignite in her mind!
She grabbed Su Li’s bleeding arm and pressed it to the wall, quickly scribbling on Su Li’s pale, blood-streaked back with her stained index finger.
She didn’t care about her body trembling with excitement, nor that her clothes were soaked—MOKA was too absorbed to notice.
She was exhilarated.
She had to pour out her inspiration completely.
Looking at the chaotic scars she’d just gouged onto Su Li’s back, MOKA let her five slender fingers sweep across it as if releasing a flood of inspiration.
The five crisscrossing trails of blood formed a Five-line Staff.
“This…this is music…”
MOKA murmured softly, her expression slightly manic.
These days, she’d been suffocating with repression and torment inside.
She’d tried to find a substitute for Su Li.
At the very least, it couldn’t be a person.
But she’d failed every time.
She grew even more restless and irritable.
If she replaced Su Li, not only would rumors of her creative exhaustion spread, but she’d face much greater risks.
And if it wasn’t Su Li, maybe she wouldn’t get enough inspiration.
She loathed this version of herself.
MOKA stared intently at the Score she’d just finished on Su Li’s back.
Suddenly, the notes on the page twisted into Su Li’s calm face.
She reached out, wanting to rip the lyrics to shreds.
Blood and sweat smeared the Score she’d just finished with a brilliant red blot.
“Damn it!”
MOKA kicked over the coffee table, tugged her hair in irritation, and didn’t even notice the shattered glass cutting her ankle.
Again and again, she raked Su Li’s back with her nails. Every melody was laced with the scent of Su Li’s blood.
Like a madwoman, she pinned Su Li against the wall, tearing at her back relentlessly.
A toppled wine bottle and the speakers clattered together in a piercing shriek. Grabbing her own hair, she howled:
“I can write without you!”
“What do you think you are…”
She sneered at Su Li slumped against the wall, a taste of rust rising from her throat.
The tremor of the Song Title’s chorus and Su Li’s pain-filled gasp overlapped perfectly.
She violently kicked over the stool beside her.
No matter how loud the stool thudded against the ground, it could never drown out her wild heartbeat.
She panted heavily, staring at Su Li in frustration.
“Who do you think you are?”
“Do you think I can’t compose without you?”
“I’m a Genius Composer!”
“I am a Genius Composer!”
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