If he made love to me, I would never be able to let go. If he fucked me with emotionless intent, we could simply go our separate ways. Arms pinned ab...ve my head, he kissed the corner of my mouth, and his tounge danced down to my jawline to my protruding breast. “Don’t do that.” I managed to breathe, trying to pull myself up. He didn’t respond, but rather tightened his grip around my wrists. I found it hard to decline any further. The more I fought back, the more my body weakened. Just as I. My friend Yan Shin had said this collection of old books was the largest in the city, perhaps the largest in China. I ran my hand over the binding of a few books, feeling the delicate but rough texture. The first few books I picked up and carefully opened seemed to be fiction books. I was hoping for something with poetry, so I picked out the oldest looking one and opened the cover. I couldn’t read the text, Yan Shin would later translate for me, but I could see it was poetry. I fumbled. More

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