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Summary
It was the first day of a precious break, the first day in so long in which she wasn’t Class Monitor, the first day in so long in which Fu Hua could and should rest, but here she was staring out of a window into the gray buffeting storm beyond, thinking of how she wouldn’t really mind sitting in class at the moment.
She sighed, hot onto the window, and wrote her name, but not in the language of this land, in their confusing letters and translations. No, Fu Hua did it how she used to, how she was taught to, with long curving lines and sharp angles.
And that’s when the door knocked.