the simplest pleasures becoming uphill battles.

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Food, once a source of solace and joy, was now a torment.

Jiaoqiu prided himself on his culinary knowledge—he could mix spices with finesse, and create flavours that danced on the tongue.

But now?

He can’t even chop ingredients without frequently slicing his fingers. The smell of herbs often being overpowering, their textures strange under his fingers as he struggled to cook a dish he once made blindfolded for fun.

Now, he was blind. And nothing was fun.

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