Bloody Invitation

Lu Hansheng never imagined that the little café hidden at the end of the old alley would hold someone like her. The woman rested her chin on her hand, gazing out the window, her knuckles tapping lightly on the table in a leisurely rhythm. When she turned, her eyes glinted with a hint of amusement, as if sizing up prey that had wandered into a trap of its own accord. She said her name was Li Ruo. Every time they met after that, she would push the coffee cup to his hand, her fingertips inadvertently brushing the sensitive web between his thumb and forefinger. Until that night, when the streetlamps stretched their shadows long, she leaned in close, her breath scorching hot against the shell of his ear: "Don't trust me." Her voice was like a blade dipped in honey.