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... to Shen Zhuang.

Sensing her scrutiny, Shen Zhuang smiled faintly. "Let me guess. You want to ask if they’re suffering—maybe even demand to know why I, as a fellow human, can’t understand their pain. Am I right?"

"..."

"No need to ask. I’ll save you the effort," Shen Zhuang chuckled. "I know they’re in agony, that they’d rather die than live like this. But you see, I don’t particularly care how these mortals feel."

"..."

"Hey, why aren’t you saying anything ...

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“You…” She stepped back. Then back again, her mouth dropped open. “You… You cannot be…”

“I am,” Etan said, and his hair raked back as he pushed his mask off his handsome face. So handsome her heart raced.

His hair was ebony black, his skin a warm brown that threatened to fade in in the winter months. He stared at her with glittering green eyes, over high cheekbones and a noble nose, his jaw tight and shadowed this late in the day. His chin was high over the pillar of his neck that she’d just touched with its hard lines and steel strength, so different to her own. And his chest... She gasped and covered her eyes. She’d humiliated herself revealing her stupid, childish curiosity.

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“How can you say that? It changes everything!” She was horrified to realize she was crying.

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