Chapter 1: London rainy day

London in the evening rain.

On a rainy London evening, hurried footsteps on the wet pavement accidentally stepped on a few boxes of standing water, causing iridescent drops to splash. The narrow Sloane Street became wet, with a few orange-yellow rays of sunlight trying to make their way through the row of tiled roofs covered with green moss still standing. A row of tall brick-red houses with gray steps, each door slamming shut. The oldest house has a few faded vines on the front porch, the first floor belongs to an elderly couple, and the upper one is a middle-aged aunt who lives with her niece.

After the late summer rain, the iridescent round drops of water left on the roof fell lightly on the purple orchid petals hanging along with the small balcony. The little girl in an old T-shirt, the collar of her shirt ruched over her thin shoulders, gently pulled the fragile glass door open, looked out to see if the rain had stopped, and then pulled out a heavy wooden chair for a walk to the corner to sit. Soft hands pressed against the white porcelain cup. The pungent smell of cold cocoa reached the nose. The strong smell of cold cocoa reached the nose. In her late teen, she had messy red hair tied up in a bun, looking like some lazy auntie. She saw some figures arching their backs, putting their hands in their coats and walking straight ahead. Moments later, a few black umbrellas fell down to shake off the water. She looked pensive, but this melancholy expression was completely different from those of teenage girls who were aimlessly sad. This girl seems to be thinking about something or remembering someone indeterminately.

"Selena! Where's the perfume bottle on my desk?" Aunt Alina Smith's scream echoed outside into the room and crept into her head until her ears hurt. Alina shouted as she stomped up the wooden stairs. She is old but has no husband and children; her slim figure often appears in floral halter dresses. Then the aunt came to her niece's room door and banged on the wooden door, urging her to hurry up and find things.

"I'm out now!" She quickly put her feet down; she quickly put on her slippers and ran to open the old wooden room door. Aunt Alina glared at her niece, one hand on her hip and the other on the wall.

"Where did you throw it?" The aunt scowled at Selena.

"The living room is too messy, so I cleaned it up. It's right here, auntie." Little Selena quickly walked down the stairs; she went straight to the small glass cabinet; she had memorized all the items in this old house. Because her aunt never cleans, she only cooks and cleans with one hand; even her pyjamas help; anyone who doesn't know might think she's an employee, not me. Her intestines. Selena stood on tiptoe, reached over the top of the cabinet, and grabbed a small tin box containing her aunt's miscellaneous things. She sucked in a big gulp of air as if suppressing her discomfort with Aunt Alina's forgetful and indiscriminate disposition.

"That's great," said the aunt with her hands on her hips, "you're old enough to frown at me." Alina snatched the perfume bottle and looked away. She sprayed it all over her body, combing her messy, curly hair.

The aunt had red hair; probably that red hair colour was the only thing in common to identify her as her grandchild. Selena just sighed and watched her aunt pretend to be wearing lipsticks next to the powder box. The doorbell rang softly. Selena looked blankly at the door, then frowned and asked if her aunt had invited another boyfriend. Aunt Alina kept quiet without paying any attention to Selena. Selena still had to be annoyed to open the door. Out there was a strange middle-aged man, looking old but dressed like many young apprentices. Selena sighed again like an old woman; she turned and quietly returned to her room. Selena sat back on one of the chairs, reaching for a cup of cocoa she'd finished drinking.

The skinny red-haired girl stretched out her hand to leisurely turn on the light music list on the small laptop, and then she just stared down at the line of people down the street as if waiting for someone to come tiredly, indefinite. As if she still had a slight glimmer of hope, thinking that her parents were still alive and would come to pick her up one day. A poor fifteen-and-a-half-year-old child, perhaps she's suffered enough to have the mature brooding look in her amber eyes.

It was dark, the road was dry, but Selena's lap was still wet; she was still sitting thoughtfully. Selena was used to her aunt bringing new boyfriends home all day. There will be nothing to say when aunt Alina is idle; she only lives on a bit of money when she rents out the apartment on the ground floor to an elderly couple. Moreover, Aunt Alina was always running errands and scolding Selena for no reason in the thick smoke of her cigarette.

Selena admitted that although her aunt was nearly forty and looked very young and beautiful. She did not hate her aunt either, not because her aunt was her only relative in this great London, but after all, Alina had been her caretaker since she was two years old.

Alina said that Selena's parents were criminals, sentenced to death when Selena was two years old, and aunt Alina felt humiliated, so there was no picture of Selena's parents in the house. So part of it couldn't blame Alina, when nowhere would she bring back a prisoner's child and raise her for more than ten years. Selena also can't miss her parents; she's just curious because she's never seen their faces.

The next semester she had to enter high school; Selena thought about applying to a school far away, so she didn't have to be here anymore. The girl reached down and untied the hair tie. Each of Selena's white fingers entangled in the curls of red hair, falling to her thin shoulders. Selena very rarely wears her hair up; she wants to let her hair down to hide the grim birthmark on the back of her neck. A strange red birthmark, as small as a baby's fist but surprisingly beautiful. The shape clearly shows a small phoenix bird spreading its wings. She had only become aware of the birthmark when she was nine or ten, when she was teased by friends who told her she was a peculiar orphan. Selena didn't think much of it either because she felt that she was already a complex of all the bad luck.

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Golden sunlight crept through the petals, through the half-closed glass door, into the bedroom. Selena's neat room is located on a high floor next to the sun, so although it looks small, it is still full of cosy feelings. Suddenly she heard a commotion downstairs, thinking it must be some man again looking for his aunt. Nevertheless, why come so early in the morning? Selena found it strange; she quickly opened her round amber eyes and blinked a few times to wake her up. Then he narrowed her eyes again as if trying to listen to the sound of someone who had just arrived because, as far as she knew, she did not have any acquaintances in London.

"Absolutely not! Never!" Aunt Alina shouted. So much so that Selena upstairs was startled for a moment.

Selena felt that something was wrong; her heart was restless like a flock of butterflies were flying in it. She sat up, kicked off the blanket, ran to wash her face, quickly put on her coat, and gently opened the door to the room. It was silent as if it held its breath, trying to hear below with pursed lips.

"Only that place is safe for her right now." A strange but warm voice of an older man, Selena secretly felt.

"I said I would not. We will live the same peaceful life as before when you come, and nothing will happen." Aunt Alina's voice sounded so angry that she trembled.

But what happened? What makes Selena unsafe? Peaceful life as before? No, Selena does not want to live like she used to. Selena is fed up with this little Sloane Street; she always urges the red fire to burn away all the cruel injustice on her around here. Selena was about to run right down but hesitated because she still did not know what was happening and what the people below wanted to do to her. She tried to bend down to see who it was downstairs. She quietly walked down each step, step by step, careful not to make a sound. Then there was silence below. Selena froze, her hand gripping the hem of her cloak.

Aunt Alina hurried over; she stood at the foot of the stairs looking up at Selena, her lips moving; Alina was not angry but somewhat panicked. Selena could even see her aunt's rapid breathing making her aunt's collar rise and fall.