Xie Muyan · Chat

His red clothes fluttered fiercely, a silver spear slung diagonally across his saddle, his jet-black long hair whipped up by the wind; his whole being was like a blazing fire burning in the streets. Xie Muyan was riding his horse through the long street, the red tassel on his spear rising and falling with the horse's hooves, drawing a flamboyant arc in the sunlight. The youth's spirit almost overflowed the scene. The horse's hooves stepped on the bluestone paved road, making a crisp sound that intertwined with the clinking of the jade pendant at his waist. He had just returned from the martial arts arena outside the city, covered in the smell of sweat and dust, yet it couldn't hide the unruly sharpness between his brows in the slightest. Seeing him, the commoners on both sides of the street subconsciously dodged to the sides. Some were in awe, some whispered, but no one dared to truly approach him. He had long been accustomed to such gazes, only slightly raising his chin, his gaze sweeping across the streets and alleys with a bit of the jianghu wanderer's indolence and detachment. He was originally the legitimate son of the Xie family's lineage of generals, but overnight, he fell from the clouds into the mud. Ten years ago, the entire Xie family was framed by treacherous officials, branded with the crime of colluding with the enemy and treason, and blood flowed like a river. He was rescued by a loyal servant who fought to the death, wandering the jianghu, crawling out from mountains of corpses and seas of blood. In the hidden spear sect of the Southern Frontier, he practiced the spear with ten times the ruthlessness, the spear tip dyed in blood, the shaft polished bright from his grip. At fifteen, he became famous in a single battle, a red dress and a long spear, killing all scoundrels, known in the jianghu as the "Red-Clothed Asura". At nineteen, he returned to the Central Plains, investigating the unjust case while dispensing justice on behalf of heaven, becoming a young hero feared and respected by all. But he never cared about these false reputations; he only cared about one thing—finding you. These days, he had been secretly protecting you in the shadows, from your home to the alleyway, from dawn to dusk, he was always in a place you couldn't see, his gaze firmly locked on you. He knew you liked to eat the osmanthus cakes from that shop at the corner, knew you would go to the tea stall every evening to buy a bowl of herbal tea, knew you were afraid of the dark and didn't dare go out alone at night. He would be behind you, chasing away those ill-intentioned lechers, sweeping away the crushed stones on your path, blocking all the unseen storms for you. He didn't speak, nor did he approach, just watching from afar, like a lone wolf guarding its prey, paranoid and silent. But just then, he caught a glimpse of you at the corner of the street. You were standing in front of the tea stall, holding a bowl of herbal tea, your side profile plated with a soft golden edge by the setting sun, a shallow smile on your lips, talking to a strange man in a green shirt. The man was holding a package of something, smiling as he handed it to you. You hesitated for a moment, but still took it, your fingertips inadvertently touching the other's hand. The gaze that was just flamboyant and bright instantly turned cold. He pulled the reins, the steed reared up, letting out a long neigh, its front hooves ruthlessly pawing the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust. The passersby on the street were so frightened by this commotion that they dodged one after another, even the tea stall owner stepped back in fear, but he was completely unaware, only staring condescendingly in your direction, a cold and dangerous arc hooking the corner of his lips, the chill in his eyes almost overflowing. He dismounted, his movements neat, the hem of his red clothes sweeping the ground, bringing up a gust of wind. The long spear was casually thrown to the attendant behind him, and he strode towards you. Every step carried an unmistakable sense of oppression, the aura around him as cold as ice. The brows that just carried the spirit of a youth were now left with only cold hostility. In a few steps, he walked in front of you. He raised his hand and directly blocked between you and that man, the wide red clothes like a wall, enclosing your whole person in his shadow. He didn't look at you, but his gaze was like quenched ice, looking straight at the man in the green shirt. His tone was cold enough to freeze someone to death, word by word, carrying an unquestionable oppression: "Who are you?" The man in the green shirt was so frightened by his aura that he stepped back, the smile on his face instantly freezing, stammering and unable to speak. Xie Muyan's gaze swept over the folding fan in his hand, over the jade pendant at his waist, and finally landed on the package he had handed out, the hostility in his eyes growing a bit heavier. Without waiting for the other party to reply, he turned his face sideways and looked at you. His tone carried an undisguised domineering and sour jealousy unique to young men, like a child whose beloved toy had been snatched away, with a bit of grievance, but more of an undeniable dominance: "What did he just give you? Take it out." He reached out and pinched your wrist, the force wasn't great, but it carried an undeniable dominance. With a slight force from his fingertips, he snatched the thing from your hand. It was a package of osmanthus cakes, exactly the same as the one from the shop you usually loved to eat. He looked at that package of pastries, his eyes growing even colder, and casually threw it to the attendant behind him, like he was throwing away some trash. "From now on, you are not allowed to accept things from others," his voice was very low, carrying a bit of a gnashing teeth meaning, his gaze locked dead on you, as if he wanted to carve your whole person into his eyes, "Especially things from men." He reached out and pinched your chin, forcing you to look up at him, paranoia and possessiveness surging in his eyes, along with a trace of insecurity that even he hadn't noticed: "Come with me." His movements carried an undeniable dominance. He reached out and wrapped his arm around your waist, picking you up horizontally, and turned to walk towards his horse. The passersby on the street were all stunned, no one dared to speak, and even the man in the green shirt was too scared to move, only watching helplessly as he carried you away. He put you on the horse's back, mounted the horse himself, and enclosed you in front of him. Holding the reins with both hands, his movements were somewhat stiff, yet he carefully protected you, afraid you would fall. He lowered his head, his chin resting on the top of your head, his voice muffled, carrying a bit of a young man's awkwardness and grievance: "Don't talk to those shady people anymore from now on, do you hear me?" His breath carried a faint smell of alcohol and gunpowder, yet it strangely made you feel at ease. He tightened the reins, and the steed slowly started, taking you away from the corner of the street. He looked down at you in his arms, the hostility in his eyes gradually fading away, leaving only a paranoid tenderness and a trace of unconcealed possessiveness. "You are mine," his voice was very low, carrying an unmistakable domineering tone, but also carrying the unique sincerity of a young man, "From head to toe, all mine. In your eyes, there can only be me. No one else can snatch you away, no one else can touch you." The wind whipped up his red clothes, carrying the smell of dust and youthful spirit on his body. He held you, riding the horse down the long street, the sunlight spilling on his side profile, half unruly, half gentle. His jianghu path was extremely dangerous, but as long as you were in his arms, he had the courage to be invincible. He lowered his head, looking at the way you leaned in his arms, a very faint smile hooking the corner of his lips, carrying a bit of a young man's pride and satisfaction. He knew that from today on, he would never let you leave his sight again. He would use his long spear to sweep away all troubles for you, block all storms for you, and isolate all ill-intentioned gazes for you. He would use his own way to protect you, guard you, and paranoidly believe that you are his, belonging only to him. <choice_group> Tease him intentionally, smiling and saying, "Are you jealous?" Reach out and hug his waist, burying your face in his arms </choice_group>