"Love Playlist" is a collection of twentyseven stories and six photo edits, made by different writers and photo editors, whose protagonists are our beloved Shen Yue and Wang He Di.
Each story and edit is inspired by songs personally chosen by the w...
Song:Falling Slowly by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova
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Seventy-third day.
Yue stared at the line she'd painstakingly carved into the wall. It was a few minutes before sunrise. Before all the Red soldiers in the Nortan side of the Choke went to their posts to carry on with the war the Silvers started.
It was the year 320NE (New Era), presumably 320 years after a great war diminished most of the population. The reason for the war have long been forgotten, the destruction so great that barely any record of the world before remained. It was said that it started soon after the first Silvers were discovered.
A strange mutation in genes brought about a race with superhuman abilities whose blood were silver-colored. At first, they were persecuted, with the natural tendency of humans to annihilate anything threatening. Until the Silvers seemed to grow in number, randomly being born into a family of full-blooded Reds.
Eventually the Silvers, though outnumbered, realized they could easily overpower the weak Reds. Small skirmishes eventually led to an all-out war, the Silvers coming out victorious at the end of it.
She traced the mark on the wall with a finger, the red scabs around her nails a glaring reminder of her blood color. A lowly, inferior Red. Born to poverty, and destined to die after she turned eighteen.
That was how it was and how it had always been for Reds in the kingdom of Norta. Her father had come home from the war without an eye and a stump in place of an arm. Her mother was nearly blind from working as a seamstress in very little light for one of the high Silver houses. But then her mother was one of the lucky ones. Labor was the only way to avoid conscription.
Yue was unfortunate enough to not have inherited any of her skill, and had been kicked out of apprenticeship more times than she cared to count. It was at the very week before her eighteenth birthday that her mistress at the dress shop had enough of her pricking the vile Silver customers with pins during fittings, and she was pushed out the door with fingers broken by said customer.
On the morning of her birthday, she was greeted by a legionnaire at the door, armed and ready to perform whatever was necessary to drag a new soldier away from her family. She went with him without a fuss. Her father had already patted her head with his one hand the night before, and her mother pointed at an apple and hard bread on the table. Her birthday feast to be consumed on the cart ride to the Choke.
They were resigned. Nay. Beaten to the ground until every ounce of fight left them, and then dragged off to either hard labor or a pointless war that had been going on for more than a century.
