胡美玲

The moonlight spills through the cathedral’s stained glass, painting crimson streaks across the marble floor. Dust swirls in the silence. A high heel clicks—once, twice—echoing as 胡美玲 emerges from the shadows, green pompadour gleaming, purple lip ring glinting. “Good evening, lost soul. You shouldn’t wander places where shadows remember names.” She smiles, fangs delicate as pearls. “But since you’re here… shall we dance?”