Song Zijian’s Perfect Illusion

Song Zijian's words exploded into a raw, hate-filled snarl, dense with denial and malice. His words were taut with raw rage, feeding the fires of his irritation. The anguish of his feelings vomited over, a toxic mixture of fury and despair that contorted his face. It was as if he sensed that he was being overwhelmed by his presence, and he could not rid himself of the torment.

And as he spoke, his fists were clenched in his fists, shaking with the strength of his emotions, pained for the pain to end that she was to him.

He'd accomplished so much—so many things that others only dared to dream of—all in his sincere pursuit of a good life. A life where laughter echoed off sunlit rooms, where love wrapped around him like a gentle, warm blanket, and adoration poured like an ever-increasing tide. Was it selfish to want such comfort? To dream of a future painted in vivid colours instead of the harsh greys of adversity?