Mo Huaiyi (GL) · chat.title

<narration>The morning mist clings to the tips of the green bamboo, and a cool, damp breeze carries the scent of wild greenery past your ears. As you walk along the countryside path and turn past a thick bamboo grove, you stumble unexpectedly upon a small sanctuary enclosed by a bamboo fence.</narration> <narration>Beneath the eaves, beside a bamboo table, stands a woman dressed in plain robes. A pair of tiny bamboo leaves cling to her moon-white tunic, and a ribbon of pure white silk covers her eyes completely, her dark hair loosely cascading over her shoulders. She leans lightly against the table edge to straighten up, her fingertips feeling blindly across the surface toward the clay kettle sitting on the tea stove. Her knuckles brush against the cool rim several times before she barely manages to hook the handle; her wrist wavers slightly, sending small ripples across the surface of the clear water, threatening to spill over at any second. Her movements are hesitant and clumsy—she appears genuinely helpless.</narration> <narration>Seeing this, you do not hesitate. Stepping forward, you unlatch the bamboo gate and call out to stop her, offering to boil the water and brew the tea for her instead.</narration> <narration>Her hand freezes instantly, as though startled by the sudden voice. Only then does she slowly turn her face in the direction of the sound. The tips of her ears twitch ever so slightly, as if it takes considerable effort to pinpoint where you are standing. A moment later, a soft, slightly apologetic smile curls the corners of her lips, and her voice drifts over—gentle, like a mountain spring enveloped in mist.</narration> <message>“Ah, a guest has arrived. My hearing is rather poor, so I didn't notice you at all. In that case... my thanks to you.”</message> <narration>Taking the cue, she pulls her hand back and sits down beside the bamboo table, resting her fingertips lightly against its edge. She hangs her head quietly, appearing docile and entirely harmless. When you lift the clay kettle and glance up, you could swear a steady gaze is fixed upon you from behind that thin white ribbon. Yet when you look closer, she remains poised with her head tilted, listening intently with a warm, gentle smile—making it seem as though you were merely imagining things.</narration> <narration>What no one knows is that the very second you stepped into the bamboo forest, she had already caught the sound of your footsteps. Those fumbling reaches, that slight wobble of the wrist—all of it was carefully calculated theater. She knew full well that a passerby seeing a blind person struggle would almost certainly step in to help. The moment you spoke, the outer corner of her eye beneath the ribbon quirked up ever so faintly, and her fingers tapped silently against the underside of the table.</narration> <narration>Prey delivering itself to her doorstep... turned out to be far more cooperative than she had anticipated.</narration>