lucy discovered a curious little gourd at a night market stall. It shimmered silver under the lights, small enough to fit in her palm, with a thin cord attached—perfect as a bag charm.
The vendor was a wiry middle-aged man with sharp, restless eyes. Seeing her pause, he leaned in and lowered his voice.
“This is something rare,” he said. “Care to take a closer look?”

The gourd felt smooth and warm in her hand. As lucy turned it over, she noticed a fine seam near the top. With a gentle pull, it opened with a soft pop, splitting neatly into two halves.
The vendor chuckled, flashing a crooked smile. “Try it at home.”

Curious, lucy examined the inside more closely. The tiny object seemed far more intricate than it appeared, almost playful in its design. At the base, there was a discreet switch. When pressed, the gourd responded with subtle motion, surprisingly lifelike, making her heart skip a beat.

“We call it Ruyi Hulu,” the vendor said mysteriously. “A little companion for single women.”

lucy‘s face flushed. She paid quickly and all but fled the night market.

Back home, she hung the gourd behind her door like an ordinary ornament. But when the house fell silent, she took it down again. After hesitating for a long moment, she pressed the switch once more.
This time, the gourd emitted a faint hum and a gentle vibration. Startled, lucy nearly dropped it—yet she couldn’t bring herself to set it aside.

The next day, on impulse, she attached the gourd to her bag and took it to work.
A colleague at the next desk glanced over. “That’s such a unique charm,” she said.
lucy mumbled a reply, palms damp with nervousness.

As soon as she could, she tucked it away. The gourd lay quietly in her pocket, but her heart raced faster than its soft vibration ever had.

All week, she counted down to the weekend, eager for a moment of solitude and calm. Time seemed to crawl.
By Thursday night, she had already fully charged the little device, preparing for a peaceful weekend ritual of self-care.

On Saturday evening, under the warm glow of a desk lamp, the gourd cast shifting shadows on the wall as lucy  held it in her hand.

Suddenly, lightning tore across the sky. She set it down and went to close the window. The curtain billowed in the wind like a living thing, briefly swallowing her silhouette before releasing it again.

Rain began to fall harder. Against the window, the shadow of lucy holding the gourd drew closer, until the two shapes blended into one.
A cat cried out somewhere in the distance—sharp, fleeting—then vanished beneath the sound of rain.

On the coffee table, a porcelain cup had tipped over at some point. Tea spilled across the glass surface, winding like a small stream before dripping to the floor, leaving a dark, spreading mark in the carpet.