“Song, song!!”
MOKA jolted awake from her dream, her head spinning dizzily.
In a fluster, she finally remembered the service that Su Li provided.
She anxiously scanned her surroundings and, upon noticing Su Li sitting calmly on the sofa, finally let out a small sigh of relief.
Her head was muddled after drinking, and she vaguely remembered having finished writing a song earlier—though where the song had gone, she couldn’t recall.
“Where’s my song?”
MOKA’s gaze landed on Su Li. She might have been drunk, but that didn’t mean Su Li was too.
The things she couldn’t remember, Su Li surely would!
She had paid for this, after all!
Su Li looked at MOKA calmly. Even she didn’t know what MOKA had written.
But if it meant she could end this job a little sooner, she was more than willing.
So she didn’t hide anything, simply turning around slowly.
“What the hell is this?”
MOKA glared at the strange scrawlings on Su Li’s back, furious.
She grabbed the messy hair at Su Li’s nape, forcing her to straighten up.
Those dark brown marks looked like mold on a wall, dried blood scabbing and cracking into fine webs across the folds of skin.
The crescent-shaped scars left by fingernails were twisted together into a five-line staff.
Dried beads of blood dragged broken lines, like a ball of yarn unraveled by a cat.
Suddenly, she pressed her fingertip hard over the chorus that had been repeated four times, the overlapping words rubbing up little flakes of skin.
Cracked scabs oozed small beads of blood under her touch, the dark red lines winding around the pale skin like rusted brambles.
“Damn it!”
“How is anyone supposed to read this?”
“This is all your fault!”
“You knew I had important things to do!”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“This is a mess!”
MOKA yanked back Su Li’s hair, her alcohol-reeking nails digging into the scabbed-over lyrics.
She wanted to see more clearly the song she’d written.
But no matter how she scratched, she still couldn’t make out what she’d written while drunk.
Her nails dug into the dried blood, making a scratching sound like sandpaper on wood.
Even though MOKA’s rough handling made her back ache, Su Li’s expression barely changed.
She only spoke in an even voice:
“For this service, you’ve already caused harm to my body.”
“What you’re doing now is further damage. That’s an extra fee.”
Hearing Su Li’s voice, MOKA felt an inexplicable fire flare in her chest.
She was the one who had paid Su Li for her service.
But in the end, the money was gone and the service was missing?
What was this?
Was her money not money?
“And you still have the nerve to ask for more?”
“Do you know how much it costs me for every second my songwriting is delayed?”
“And you still dare to ask?”
“It’s already generous of me not to demand money from you!”
Suddenly, she ran over to the tea table, grabbed the whiskey from the tea table, and poured it over Su Li’s head.
The liquor washed over the dried markings, turning the dark red into a muddy, rusty brown.
Wet skin turned an abnormal red, and the areas that had been scratched over and over began to bleed.
Fresh beads of blood followed the old scars, winding like new notes on an old five-line staff.
“You’re only losing a bit of money!”
“But what I’m losing is my shot at fame!”
“You bastard!”
“Shameless!”
MOKA roared, roughly tormenting Su Li’s wounded skin, desperate to recover her lost song.
“I’ll ask you one more time. Are you going to pay or not?”
Su Li’s tone remained calm, even as MOKA sat on the sofa, still tormenting her back, blood oozing from her wounds—Su Li’s face never so much as flinched.
MOKA’s nails were still lodged in the scabs on Su Li’s back when Su Li suddenly looked up at her.
Foam from the whiskey clung to Su Li’s lashes, her wet hair sticking to her palm-sized face, water dripping from her chin into the bloody hollow of her collarbone.
She sat soaked on the sofa, but her eyes were sharp as ice shards scraped from a freezer, sending chills down MOKA’s neck.
She suddenly shoved Su Li’s face into the sofa cushions, gripping her jaw hard:
“Who do you think you’re pretending for in front of me?”
“Smack!”
A sharp crack rang out in the room. When MOKA heard that sound, her mind was dazed—she couldn’t quite process what had just happened.
It wasn’t until a searing pain flared on her cheek that she realized what had taken place.
She’d been struck?
Su Li had actually hit her?
How dare she?
She was just a wretch—using MOKA’s own money—yet she dared strike her?
MOKA’s cheek burned and tingled, her ears buzzing as if swarmed by flies.
She staggered into the tea table piled with bottles, her palm pressing down on broken glass without even noticing the pain.
Her messy brown hair fell over her right eye, and her other eye stared fixedly at nothing, her pupils shrinking to the size of a pinhead.
She looked at Su Li in disbelief, even wondering if she was still dreaming.
Su Li had actually hit her?
Su Li had actually hit her?
That wretch!
Her fingers unconsciously gripped the edge of the sofa, her nails gouging five pale marks into the leather.
Not until the metallic tang of blood touched MOKA’s tongue did she realize her lip had been split by her teeth.
Blood dripped from her chin into her collarbone’s hollow, and only then did she realize how painful a split lip could be.
But MOKA felt no sympathy for Su Li.
Even now, with pain shooting from her lips, MOKA didn’t feel sorry for Su Li—she only thought that her punishment yesterday had been too light.
“You…”
The word stuck in MOKA’s throat.
Suddenly, she grabbed a half-broken guitar string and flung it at Su Li, the metal scraping a bloody line across her face.
The dull thud of a bottle smashing into the wall mixed with her hoarse scream: “You **! You think you’re worthy of touching me?”
Watching the blood splatter across Su Li’s cheek, MOKA’s fingers trembled as she touched her own burning face, only to find her cheeks wet—realizing only then that she was crying.
“I already gave you your chance.”
Even though her body was already covered in blood, Su Li’s voice remained utterly calm.
She walked slowly over to MOKA, grasped her by the neck, and lifted her up like a hen.
“You were the one who didn’t value this chance.”
“You’re the one who claimed my service was flawed and tried to dock my pay.”
“I can accept that.”
“But if you try to blame your own mistakes on me and use that as an excuse to take my money, I won’t accept it.”