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I'm heading out into the field for some command and ride training. I want to use Dale as a mount when he eventually evolves, and I'm trying to see if I can teach him things like "walk on" and "woah" ahead of time through various methods. May or may not work, only time will tell, but apologies in advance if I become very uncontactable. I keep my phone on Do Not Disturb basically always and I don't look at it when I'm doing stuff IRL.
[A video is attached, labeled Memory #21. Hong Zhulan, checking her appearance in a bathroom mirror, tidies up her hair and makeup. Abruptly, she stops her movements and raises a hand to touch around her eye, even pulling down the skin a little to widen it.
“我的眼睛还是我的，” (“My eyes are still my own,”) she whispers to herself and lowers her hand. With a deep sigh, she exits the bathroom and the building it is located in to cross the street towards a small local publishing house.
“Welcome,” the editor greets her warmly, voice holding a somewhat heavy accent, and holds out a hand. She suppresses a flinch, but she shakes his hand all the same. “I’m Henri. How are you?”
“Fine, thank you. My name is Hong Zhulan, and I am looking to publish a compilation of my research.” She holds up her manuscript.
“Wow,” Henri says with a chuckle. “That’s a lot, huh? You must have worked hard, though I can’t say I’ve ever seen that language before…”
“It’s, ah, called Chinese. Mandarin, to be specific. I’m from another region,” Hong Zhulan explains, which isn’t quite a lie. “You needn’t worry about the translation for now; I am fluent in Unovan, so I can take care of that myself.”
“…Mandarin?” Wei Wuxian blurts out. “Like the citrus fruit?!”
“I see,” Henri says. “Well, go on. Tell me what your book is about.”
Once Hong Zhulan finishes, Henri looks… unsettled, to say the least. “I can see why this might be important to you,” he says slowly, “but this is— ridiculous. If it’s just a load of nonsense, then it’s a waste of paper, but if it is true? How do you suppose people would react to that, especially when these things are being written by a woman with a foreign name of all people?”
Hong Zhulan closes her eyes and grits out, “I am more than just a woman with a foreign name.”
“I know you are,” Henri says, and Hong Zhulan’s eyes fly open. “Look, I’m Kalosian. When I moved here, I had to fight tooth and nail to make it to where I am now, since people would often give me a hard time due to my accent. I doubt you will be so lucky with such a large ambition.”
“But if you give me a chance—”
“No can do. Even now, my resources are limited and my reputation hinges on the works I edit.” Upon finishing the last statement, an almost… foxlike glint flashes through Henri’s eyes. “Do you have anything else for me?”
“No,” Hong Zhulan says, “and I will not leave until you accept my work.”
Henri sighs. “I have other clients too, you know? Reputable clients. It’s not like my job depends on desperate people like you.”
“…I am desperate,” she agrees, and her accent begins to slip back in. “I am desperate because I have gone to editor after editor, publishing house after publishing house, for FOUR YEARS without rest, and every time I have been rejected on the basis of my clothes, my eyes, my speech, my language, my womanhood, the premise of my research, everything!”
“And I assume I’m one of the rare ones that did not turn you away for the first five reasons?”
“Yes! So I will not yield now!”
Henri raises an eyebrow. “Why don’t you just… get a change of clothes?”
The red tint creeps across Hong Zhulan’s vision again at the mere suggestion of that. “I will never compromise myself for the sake of what other people want.”
“You are one of the most naive people I have ever met,” Henri says, sighing. “You want to publish your book this much, and yet you refuse to even try to cater to what other people despise about you? Admirable on the surface, ignorant and foolish in reality. The results only reflect that. It’s much easier to find stability if you marry and become the housewife, you know.”
Scarlet hues fully enveloping her sight, Hong Zhulan storms forward. “I will NOT—”
All of a sudden, she screams when Henri’s hand grabs her by the hair and yanks down. “Stop yelling,” he says, still with his usual mild volume. “That’s another reason people can’t fucking stand you. They like a docile, polite woman, not whatever in Yveltal’s name this is.”
“放开我！放开我！LET GO OF ME!” Hong Zhulan shrieks as Henri drags her further back into the house. He throws her against the wall and slaps her across the face.
“Would you stop with the noise? I really am trying to help teach you how to get a job as a foreigner.” When she spits back a curse at him, he sighs and slaps her again. “Cursing doesn’t help your case, either. Let’s see. What do you think will happen if, say, you tried to call the police on me?”
“我给你- get your ass arrested,” Hong Zhulan snarls.
Henri smiles eerily. “Please do try. Spoiler alert: I won’t be the one getting locked up in the end.”
Hong Zhulan freezes, which allows for Henri to slap her again and again and again. “Phew!” he says once Hong Zhulan has slumped to the ground, her vision blurred and swimming in and out. “Peace and quiet. That’s all people want, Ms. Zhoo-lan.”
“Ms. Hong,” she corrects angrily.
“Ms. Hong. Whatever.” He stretches out a hand for her to take. “I’ll give you one last chance. Get out, or I will call the—”
At the sight of Henri’s hand going anywhere remotely near her chest area, however, Hong Zhulan’s eyes widen and she shoves Henri away before sprinting out of the building. She runs and runs and runs, already hyperventilating along the way back to her tent.
day idk of ongoing psychological warfare campaign against my father. He's sending me pictures of the tart he made and I asked why he needs potholders to get it out of the oven.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
