SnCr 39

[If you’re not reading this on chichilations, then you’re reading a stolen copy. Reposts are not allowed anywhere or for any reason! Nor are unauthorized EPUBs!
Links for thee: Ko-fi DonationWriter’s TwitterProject IndexEPUB LibraryDiscord Server
I see all your likes and comments! Thanks in advance!]

Prev | ToC | Next


Watching Chu Ran cook was somewhat fascinating.

Considering that he couldn’t see, sound only gave away so much, and qi sense took issue with flat or small objects on flat surfaces, he did a lot of feeling around. When chopping scallions and vegetables, his fingers measured distance as his other hand skillfully avoided cutting himself. When rolling out noodles, he did so with as much speed and finesse as anyone sighted would have, his hands feeling out the strands to make sure they weren’t too thick. When filling the pot up with water, he left one finger over the edge, and poured until he felt the water’s surface creep up.

Zhu Li had relegated himself to be a standby helper that would only come when called, yet it seemed like his presence was completely redundant and useless.

While he watched, he noticed Chu Ran pause, knife in hand, then appear to evaluate something on the counter. He reached out to feel around for a moment, but eventually gave up, asking, “Doctor, could you please tell me where I put that ginger nugget?”

He was almost completely useless, rather.

Zhu Li wordlessly came over, took a quick glance over the counter, and discovered that the ginger nugget had rolled off of its spot. It was promptly placed into Chu Ran’s grateful hand.

Not too long passed before they were both seated outside, their simple lunches placed before them.

Halfway through the amicably-silent meal, Chu Ran decided to ask, apropos of nothing, “Could you tell me about your family now, Doctor Zhu?”

Zhu Li’s chopsticks paused in midair, his mouth remaining parted while his eyes darted up towards the other’s face. The noodles he had been lifting up were set back down into his bowl.

“You really want to do this right now?” he asked, not super amused.

Chu Ran tilted his head and raised his brows at his tone of voice. “Is it a bad time? I assumed that since we are scheduled to go to your home at this point, you might be willing to impart some information about your mysterious clan.

Is explaining this to him worth the energy? Zhu Li wondered, then answered himself. No. Probably not.

“If you just want to stick your nose into other peoples’ business, you can go ahead and say that outright,” he commented, voice flat as a board. “No need to dress it up as information gathering.”

“Oh, come now, Doctor. I never sell the information I do have or anything like that, I only hoard it like the golden toads of legend. Unless it’s relevant to the investigation, of course.”

Zhu Li narrowed his eyes as he looked him up and down. Chu Ran’s face could be abnormally traitorous to his emotions, yet at other times, his thoughts were as inscrutable as an iced-over lake. This was one such time.

Unlike previous instances of this topic coming up, there was no overwhelming feeling of being defensive or angry about — and at — them. It wasn’t gone, exactly, just muted in intensity. The reason behind this was not clear to him in the slightest; maybe he had just had enough time to subconsciously process his emotions after five years of firmly never thinking about home, or maybe the trip to Beishan had cleared up some mental blockade of his.

Therefore, for the first time since he’d left the Miasma Caves, he heaved a sigh, then conceded. “What do you want to know?”

Chu Ran, like the full grown adult that he was, seemed to wiggle in his seat. Were he standing, he might have very well stomped the ground in excitement.

“Well, the very first thing I want to know is what all of jianghu also wants to know: Are the Miasma Caves truly a treasure trove of toxins, some unknown to the world at large? Could the knowledge contained within it actually spell the end of civilization as we know it, once the general public becomes aware of something both untraceable and easy to acquire? Will half the population perish overnight?”

“…What.”

Chu Ran smiled in a way that could be described as conspiratorial. “Have you not heard, Doctor? The reason you’ve been branded as a dark cultivator is because people believe that your sect encroaches upon a taboo area, one that has not yet triggered the Dao’s poor favor, yet will in the future, in the wrong hands. A calamity waiting to happen. Nuance is lost on many, resulting in many believing that you all create poisons and rear venomous creatures just to have them. Is that true?”

Zhu Li raised his hand to massage his brow. They had just started this conversation, and he was already tired. “That’s not how any of this works. We can’t and don’t ‘create’ poisons when the rest of the world does that anyways, we just collect samples of what we do know exists and try to find antidotes or ways to combat them. If arsenic, cyanide, and snake venom haven’t already thrown the world into complete chaos when you can find them basically anywhere, then we don’t have anything better hidden away.”

“No world-ending poisons, then? What a shame,” Chu Ran commented. “What of the claims that you are all highly dangerous, waiting for the chance to strike with poison from the shadows, an unknown entity with unclear motives?”

“I’m pretty sure the Dao doesn’t allow murderers to be cultivators, and none of us know how to fight that well. Who’s saying this stuff?”

“Oh, just the masses. People have the most wild imaginations while also having the most closed-minded thought processes, yes? Their fantasies will be burst sooner or later. Now, you may not have created new poisons, but are there any obscure ones that you might know of?”

Zhu Li glared at him. “You obviously don’t need any further help with locating poisons, if you knew what Avici radishes were without me saying anything. They only get slightly more obscure than that and I’m not telling you of any more.”

That earned him a huff. “That’s boring, Doctor, but I suppose every sect must keep at least some of its secrets. How was your life in the Caves like, then? Busy? Filled with iniquitous schemes?”

“Peaceful and isolated, more like. There’s no ‘schemes’ beyond, I don’t know, family drama. And no stress aside from infrequent yao attacks.”

“No human attacks?”

“It would be hard for anyone to attack or get in. There’s an array around the whole valley that disorients everyone unwanted that tries to get to it. Without someone who had just come through it guiding you, you would have to be a zhenren or something to navigate past it. Or a yao vaulting clear over it, as it turns out.”

This was one of many reasons why his sister’s invitation was so pivotal; even if Zhu Li had ever tried to return home before this, the array would never have let him when the rest of the sect didn’t want it. How humiliating would it have been to try and go home, only to be turned away at the door?

“An entire valley? That sounds like quite the sizable array. Your elders must spend a lot of time maintaining it.”

Zhu Li nodded idly, although he wasn’t remotely knowledgeable to the inner workings of the array.

“Ah, nevermind all that, honestly. I’m sure more questions of mine will be answered once we come to be physically there. What of your family, Doctor Zhu? Is there anything I should know for future interactions?”

“Yeah,” Zhu Li answered with a sigh, his heart twinging painfully. “There’s a lot. I don’t even know where to begin.”

He saw Chu Ran’s head tilt in consideration. If he didn’t know better, he would think that the other was gauging his expression. “You think positively of your father, yes? You said as much in Beishan. Why not start with him?”

Fair enough.

Zhu Li closed his eyes, focusing on memories that had collected a fine layer of dust from disuse.

“He’s a good man. Kind, friendly, affectionate. He plays music, teaches, and reads, mostly. Whenever one of us was upset, he was the one to calm us down and talk things out. I know I learned my self-control from him, among other things. He’s easy to get along with, so you don’t really need a warning about him or anything.”

That was a really lame description of his beloved father, honestly. His natural disinclination for flowery descriptions was not his friend right now. In fact, Chu Ran tilted his head to the other side, fittingly saying, “Is that all?”

“You’ll meet him soon and he’s not difficult to be around. Do you need an in-depth account of his personality?”

Chu Ran hummed. His eyes said that he was mulling who-knew-what over. “Your older sisters that usurped your mother, then. Are they hard-handed? I assume so, as usurpers.”

“Well, no. Not really. My eldest sister, Zhu Wuji, has always been calm, and she was being raised as the next Sect Head, anyways. She isn’t overbearing, but I guess taking the spot early isn’t that out of the realm of possibility. My second sister, Zhu Junhe, is… a bit much. Her being of any help is pretty weird.”

The more Zhu Li thought about it, the less sense this made, actually. He frowned in thought. Perhaps a lot had changed in the five years he’d been gone, or he hadn’t known his sisters as well as he thought.

“A bit much how?” Chu Ran wondered, oblivious to his internal conflict.

“Nothing bad. She’s just kind of a clown? All she ever did was make jokes, talk about fashion, and run away from conflict. She looked out for her younger siblings and we loved spending time with her, but imagining her cooking up schemes or being anyone’s second-in-command is beyond anything I could ever have imagined, really. It’s to the point where I feel like Zhu Yaodang was exaggerating when he said that they jointly usurped my mother.”

Chu Ran hummed tonelessly. “There are plenty of tales where a known idiot was merely putting on an act for the public, hiding their true competence all the while. Is that the case for her?”

Zhu Li looked down, immersing himself in recollections of what he knew about Zhu Junhe.

“Junhe isn’t stupid,” he began with, “she just hardly ever took anything seriously and didn’t like facing hard choices. Her first instinct was always to run away and hide from what she couldn’t fawn or joke herself out of. That’s just a fact, not a criticism; not everyone’s interested in being or cut out to be in a leadership position. But…”

He swallowed. “But if she’s as you said, then I don’t know her well at all.”

A hand slowly reached over to tentatively pat one of his own.

“Whatever you are sad about will be resolved when we visit, I’m sure,” Chu Ran’s accompanying voice tried to reassure.

Zhu Li looked over at the palm set upon his. Chu Ran’s skin was only slightly paler than his own, a sign of someone who shunned the sun to a greater degree, and had the odd addition of a pale scar slashed horizontally across its back. Cultivation only struggled to heal over severe physical trauma or scars earned before cultivation was begun, so what…?

Nevermind, it wasn’t the time for that.

He reciprocated by placing his other hand over Chu Ran’s fully, giving a heartfelt “Thanks.”

The other’s eyes widened for a brief second, soon after which he slid his hand out of the palm-sandwich and placed it in his lap. “I’m glad that made you feel better,” he answered, mind seemingly elsewhere.

Zhu Li watched him for a while. Once it was clear to him that no follow-up questions would be put forth, he prompted with a, “Do you want to hear about my other sisters?”

“Hm? Oh, yes. You have one younger one, don’t you? What is she like?”

“That’s Zhu Canxi, given Pao. She’s soft-spoken and shy to the point of reclusiveness, where she always preferred the company of animals over people. She was on-track to be one of the minders. She had two cats, last I saw her.”

“Are you close?”

Zhu Li smiled lightly. “We were, yeah. I’m the second youngest, so I hung out with her a lot. She was really clingy as a child and it didn’t get better when she got older. My other sisters were either too old to relate to her anymore, or just… uninterested.”

His heart clenched as he thought of something: Zhu Pao had always had trouble being social and had used him as a sort of safety barrier. Even though she’d been getting better about it as she aged, what did she do after he suddenly wasn’t there for support? She wasn’t nearly as close to the others.

He mentally shook the thought process off. It was way too late to worry about that.

“Uninterested, you say?” Chu Ran said, thus snapping him out of his distracted state of mind, purposefully or not.

“Yeah. My third sister, Zhu Heng — or Airong, as she hates being called — has always been difficult. Stand-offish. Never listens to you if you aren’t a literal elder. She didn’t like me in particular, even as kids, and I think it was because we were so close in age. It was like she was always trying to run against me in a competition that never existed, I guess.”

“She hates her cultivational name?”

“Mn. She never uses it. I’m not sure why. She was always mocking me for not having a cultivational name until she got her own a year later, and then she stopped saying anything about it. Her mood was awful for a long time, though.”

“Hm… Airong? As in a funeral procession? Her being unhappy with that is quite understandable.”

“It’s the same characters for ‘mugwort down’, actually.”

“Oh. Ah… that hardly seems better, honestly. Who wants to be named after a plant byproduct?”

“She’s into botany and plants, so it didn’t seem that farfetched to me.”

Chu Ran hummed. “This was the sister whose memory upset you, yes? Are there any major things she did that could possibly earn her a smack to the face or twenty?”

“Uh… not really,” Zhu Li replied, giving him a side-eye. “It was mostly a lot of little things that she always did over the years. Snide comments, snubs, never listening. My parents would never let her get away with anything, so she had to be sneaky about what she could do when they weren’t around. She really hated it when I started quipping back at her.”

“My own fool brothers used to make snide comments towards me, as well. I made them regret it dearly,” Chu Ran said with a grin. “Just to be certain, this is the same sister that is mysteriously missing?”

“Of course. She probably just took the opportunity to leave the sect and ran with it, especially if my other sisters ordered her to,” he said, unable to keep from rolling his eyes in annoyance. “She’s contrarian to anyone that she thinks doesn’t have the authority to punish her, even though no authority figure has ever appreciated her attitude. I don’t get her at all.”

He paused, lost in thought for a bit, then sighed. Maybe Zhu Heng got that trait from their mother; they were not only impossible to see through, but never explained their own baffling actions.

“I know you’re going to ask about my mother, Yingliu,” he continued. “What do you know about her already? And what have you learned from your information channels?”

Chu Ran smiled apologetically. “You’re right in that I have done some snooping on ‘Ru Yeying’ as an entity. To my surprise, aside from what we learned in Beishan about that Three Spirits tosh, there wasn’t much more to discover beyond what Ren Zhuizhun described before. Your mother is quite the secretive woman; any insight you give in regards to her would be well appreciated.”

A suspicious look was given. “Appreciated for future reference, your little information circle, or your own nosiness?”

“Can it not be all three?”

Chu Ran’s unashamed little smile might have been annoying to anyone else’s eyes. To Zhu Li’s, it was mildly endearing at this point.

“You’re going to be disappointed at what I do know about her, then,” he warned. “Since I wasn’t the one trained to take over her position, I don’t know much of what she does. Or did, I guess. All I really know is how she acted with us growing up.”

“That much is fine, Doctor. I am well aware of how elders are fond of keeping their secrets and lives to themselves. You were unaware of your father’s past as well, right?”

“…Yeah.”

“Ah, my apologies. Perhaps I should not have said that much. Speaking of your mother may help you feel better about her, if nothing else, though?”

Doubt it. I’ll probably feel worse, Zhu Li thought to himself. There’s no point in bottling this up further, though.

He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath to steady his emotions, and briefly paused to collect his memories together.

“What you probably think of her is that she’s a cruel tyrant, right?” he started, opening his eyes once more. “She never gave me a cultivational name, yelled at anyone that wanted to leave the sect, cut off anyone that did leave, and probably wasn’t the nicest person as Ru Yeying. Am I wrong?

Chu Ran chuckled faintly. “I might not have used those words in particular…”

“The meaning is the same,” countered Zhu Li. He idly played with a strand of his own hair, allowed loose from its publicly-held bun. “But those ‘cruel tyrant’ behaviors were the exceptions with her, not the rule. Focusing on the bad parts alone doesn’t paint a full picture of who she is to me.”

His heart clenched painfully for a moment. He looked down upon his never-to-be-finished meal, then moved on to the windows outside.

Level as the ocean’s horizon, gentle as the spring’s evening breeze; the orioles’ cries grow silent as the day creeps on.

It was easier to say stuff like this when not looking another in the face, even if the eyes on that face were unseeing.

“I don’t remember her ever being too affectionate with anyone, even our father, but she wasn’t completely cold. She encouraged us all to take our own paths in life, supported us in whatever we chose, and never pressured us to chose differently. When I said I wanted to be a doctor, she was the one that arranged for my study in the sect’s infirmary, bought me every textbook I wanted, constructed a garden for me, the whole works. She even told my oldest sister that if she didn’t want to run the sect or have kids, she didn’t have to.

“If we ever had any issues or anyone tried to discourage us from working towards what we wanted, she was quick and efficient in dealing with them. Any aunt or uncle that tried to pressure us into doing whatever or any unwanted suitors would get the rod if they didn’t leave us alone. We didn’t fear her or feel unsafe with her. But…”

He paused. “That’s what made her outbursts all the weirder. Nothing we could do could set her off, whether it was a tantrum or teenage outburst, but the slightest mention of wanting to leave the sect did. And whenever she yelled at one of us, her anger would leave in minutes. She wouldn’t treat us differently in any other regard afterwards. No punishments, no further scoldings. To my knowledge, anyways.”

Internal turmoil drew the corner of his mouth down without his permission. “I guess I should say ‘no punishments beyond never giving me a cultivational name’, though.”

Chu Ran hummed in thought. “Do you know why you were the only one to be assigned that particular punishment? Could it have anything to do with you being the only boy?”

Zhu Li blinked in surprise at that observation, but rather quickly waved it off. He would have been able to recall other instances of gender-based unfairness if that had been the case. “No. I think it was because I was more vocally stubborn than my sisters. They knew to subtly keep their wants quiet, but I didn’t learn to keep my mouth more shut until a lot later on. She refused to dub me when I earned Dusha, and every year since then, she apparently never felt that I had ‘learned my lesson’ enough to be. She kept saying that maybe next year she’d do it, then the next year she’d push it back again, then she ended up saying that she’d give it to me when I came of age, then I came of age and she still didn’t give it to me, saying that she didn’t think I was mature enough…”

Anger began to seize his thoughts. It was old anger, too, some that he had buried long ago so that he could get on with the new chapter of his life.

This was related to what his father had once taught him: Repression, even in its purest form, could work, but it would only ever be a temporary measure. The slightest crack formed in the barrier holding memories back would get emotions leaking through it, which would then burst fully through the dam, flooding the senses.

Thus was why, in a fit of rage that he could not presently direct at the proper recipient, Zhu Li snapped out a quick, “What is her fucking problem?”

Chu Ran’s brows raised up. He leaned back slightly, lifting off of the elbow he was resting on. “Are you asking me? Um…”

“No,” Zhu Li emphasized. “Yes. I don’t know. I’m clearly never getting answers from her. What am I even supposed to think of her? What does she want me to think of her? She yelled about not going outside, but why did she never tell us why? Why was it ‘just listen to your elder and stop questioning things’ for only that, never anything else? How am I supposed to take her making me a laughingstock of the sect for seven years when she also gave anyone who actually laughed the rod? What am I supposed to think about her being protective of me for most of my life, then leaving me to rot in a cell and die under some obviously fake conviction?!”

He shot up from his seat and set to pacing about the room, willing the action to take away the anxious energy spiking up throughout him. That final sentence had come out as a shout without him wanting it to.

“I don’t get her. I don’t get them,” he hissed out. “It would have been hard to contact me all these years, sure, but it wouldn’t have been impossible. Did they even try? And now they send a letter wanting me to visit when it’s months too late, expecting me to be okay with everything? With their total silence? Is being isolated that important to them?”

During the course of his rhetorical questions meant for no one, the urgency of his pacing grew alongside the weight of his steps. Instead of venting his rage or taking the wind out of his sails, each questions was a gust of wind pushing the sordid boat further along turbulent waters, causing it to rock worse and worse, ever-threatening to capsize—

He was stopped by his right arm getting grabbed. It wasn’t a firm grip at all, one he could very well wrest his arm out of if he cared to, and it was precisely that gentleness that interrupted his ongoing rancor.

Upon turning, he saw that Chu Ran had also risen to his feet while he wasn’t paying attention. Both of his hands were lightly clutching Zhu Li’s forearm; once he seemed to notice that this hadn’t made him mad, he lifted one to pat his arm stiffly — not out of nervousness, but awkwardness. That much, Zhu Li could tell.

Guilt and embarrassment filled him at the realization that he had lost his composure so readily. There was a reason he had thrown his family to the back of mind for five years, which was that calmness never held up in the face of irritants, and remaining clear-headed was a must when on one’s own.

“It’s okay to be angry, Zhu Li,” softly said the man next to him, however. His smile was a sad and distant thing. “I believe I intimately know why you are. Or, at least, I have a good inkling.”

Closing his eyes, Zhu Li breathed in through his nose, then exhaled, reigning in his emotions with the simple act. “And how would you put it into words?” he asked, the steam gradually leaving him with every passing second.

“It’s honestly quite a simple sentiment,” Chu Ran began. His hands slid down Zhu Li’s arm until they both rested upon his own hand, whereupon he raised it up to be chest-height and squeezed it in light reassurance. “You feel betrayed. You wanted them to put you over their pride just once, only for them to let your expectations down.”

He sighed, as if expelling years of being worn-down from his soul itself. “Sorrow weighs heavy upon the heart, leading to days of languor abunch. Is harsh disappointment not one of the most relatable things in the world?”

There came a pause bogged with unspoken lament. Zhu Li looked over the sad expression he wore, his mind subconsciously theorizing as to what the other was speaking of — the Chu family seemed an unlikely candidate based on the fact that in order to be disappointed, one had to have expectations to disappoint in the first place.

Appearing to sense his questioning, Chu Ran smiled sadly. “We expect things to be a certain way logically, yet reality will give us a nice slap to wake us up to its messiness. It was logical for I, a more-or-less orphan, to attempt and find a family in my newfound sectmates so very long ago; it was reality to find that they didn’t care for me the same way, and to stop trying. Not the same thing in the slightest to you, since they never cared for me beforehand yet also never left me anywhere dangerous, but the disappointment is much the same.”

Following a sardonic huff, Zhu Li said, “Yeah, I had to wait for a stranger to bail me out and vouch for me because they didn’t bother. —I’m still grateful to you for that, by the way. Even if you mostly did it because I helped you first.”

Chu Ran furrowed his brows at the remark. “Helped me first? What do you mean?”

Zhu Li quirked his own brow back. “The Gorge of Truth? You were the one that told me about it. Did you forget?”

Uncharacteristic dread passed over Chu Ran’s face, gone in a flash and quickly succeeded by Chu Ran’s typical mildness. “Oh, right, right. That must have slipped my mind momentarily.”

Huh. That was a… weird reaction.

“In any case, I have a bit of a question, Doctor,” Chu Ran continued, squeezing his hand again. “You seem to be quite close to your family. Does abandoning you to die like so really seem like something they would do?”

Zhu Li blinked. The question caught him somewhat off guard, swiftly forcing his mind to work. A brief moment passed before he answered with a straight, “No.”

But that was what made it all the weirder, and more infuriating, that they had.

“I figured that was the case,” Chu Ran answered. He paused to think shortly after, one finger going to rest against his mouth. “You know, Doctor, I am not one to overly dabble in mere assumptions. While I can speak ill of my own family the day long because I have deep knowledge of how much they are an affront to humanity, I cannot speak in confidence about your own family, nor how your sect functions. I wouldn’t ask you to not feel what you’re feeling, but… perhaps we should hold off judgement until we hear your family’s side?”

Their ‘side’ is probably that they didn’t come to get me because they didn’t want to be exiled like I am, Zhu Li internally snarked, though I guess they changed their mind about that.

“I’ll listen to what they have to say,” he muttered. The bitterness in his tone went undisguised.

Chu Ran beamed, patting his hand reassuringly. “That’s all that can be asked of you. And if they truly are that despicable, we can commiserate in having terrible families from then on out.”

Zhu Li glared at him without heat. “The more likely option is that they decided one brother wasn’t worth being cut off from their entire support structure, even if they might not have liked it.”

“We can commiserate in having coldly pragmatic families, then. Won’t that be fun?”

“…Your definition of fun is questionable.”

“As I’ve been informed before. Now, do you feel better?”

Zhu Li’s mind blanked out at the inquiry. “Huh?”

“Did talking about this make you feel better? I think it did, but I must admit that I’m not a flawless interpreter.”

After a bit of consideration, Zhu Li answered with, “I guess so. Do you feel better now that you’ve gotten your curiosity sated?”

“For now,” Chu Ran answered quite happily.

Even though he internally rolled his eyes, Zhu Li evaluated that his burst of anger had indeed alleviated something within him. Not completely, as years of baggage also took years to unpack, but somewhat. A freeing feeling, it was.

Maybe the future’s conflicts would be easier to deal with once they came knocking.

He allowed himself a moment to self-calm. He took in how Chu Ran looked in this moment, with his plain-colored clothes, hands still nicely petting his own, and head bowed lightly, that long black hair falling around his face.

“I’ve got a request,” Zhu Li began, causing the other man to raise his head slightly.

“What is it?” Chu Ran’s airy voice answered back.

“Can you not do these heavy conversations in the middle of meals anymore? I’m pretty sure my lunch is cold.”

“…Ah. Allow me to, um, reheat it for you. For both of us, actually.”


The author says: Let Doctor Zhu Eat His Dang Food

Prev | ToC | Next

2 thoughts on “SnCr 39

  1. Oh yes, repression of feelings can only take one this far… 🙂
    I’m glad that Chu Ran helped Zhu Li realize some things and also take some weights off his chest! And the hand holding thing was so cute :)))
    However…
    Chu Ran, did you lie about being saved by Zhu Li back then??

    Like

  2. The tradition of telling half-plausible (at best) and outlandish stories about the distant neighbours one scarcely sees if at all, is alive and well I see
    Well. That outburst has been a long time coming. The contradiction makes it worse if anything.
    Hm.
    Yeah, let a man eat his noodles in peace before asking emotionally fraught questions, Chu Ran.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s