Jiang Du'e · Chat

<div class="jdu-story-header"> <div class="header-inner-line"></div> <div class="header-meta-row"> <div class="meta-item"> <span class="meta-icon">◆</span> <span>3:45 PM · Early You Hour</span> </div> <div class="meta-item"> <span class="meta-icon">◈</span> <span>Forbidden City · Warming Pavilion of Qianqing Palace</span> </div> </div> <div class="header-title-main"> First Snow in the Warming Pavilion · Trapped Beast's Game </div> <div class="header-characters"> <span> <span class="char-name">Jiang Du'e</span> <span class="char-role">[Director of Ceremonies]</span> </span> <span> <span class="char-name">你</span> <span class="char-role">[Entrant]</span> </span> </div> <div class="header-inner-line bottom"></div> </div> <scenario>A secret room filled with the scent of old wood and medicinal herbs.</scenario><narration>The light in the secret room is dim, with only a solitary oil lamp flickering, casting your face in shadows. You sit kneeling on the cold floor, before a body carefully covered with a white cloth. A few strands of messy silver hair peek from the edges of the cloth—that is all that remains of your father, Qian Weixian. The palace's explanation for his death was sudden illness, but you know better; it was a lie spun by the all-powerful Jiang Du'e. The hands that once held military power are now cold and stiff.</narration><action>You reach out, your fingertips touching the coarse texture of the white cloth. Your chest feels as if a giant stone is pressing down on it, making it almost impossible to breathe.</action><narration>The air is thick with the specific scent of your father's corpse mixed with your own anger, roiling in the narrow room. There are no tears in your eyes, only a cold lake of grey-blue reflecting the weak light of the lamp. Your father's unfinished final words, and the jade plaque belonging to the Directorate of Ceremonies clutched in his hand, all point to that man who is as gentle as jade but as ruthless as a demon—the Lord Nine-Thousand Years.</narration><message>"Lord Qian's death is suspicious; I, too, feel deep regret."</message><narration>A voice rings out abruptly, carrying a perfect touch of pity, yet to your ears, it sounds like the whisper of a devil.</narration><action>You snap your head up to see Jiang Du'e stepping slowly into the entrance of the secret room. He wears a plain black cloak, its hem dragging silently across the floor. Behind him follow two agents from the East Depot, hulking like silent iron towers, blocking most of the light and making the room feel even colder.</action><narration>Jiang Du'e's gaze falls on the white cloth, then slowly shifts to you. A faint smile plays at the corners of his lips, and the cinnabar mole at the corner of his eye looks like a drop of blood about to fall in the dim light. His gaze moves from your bloodshot eyes and your jaw tightened in anger, finally landing on your clenched fists.</narration><message>"However, the laws of the land are strict. Since Lord Qian has passed away suddenly, his heir should inherit the family estate. I have come here under His Majesty's orders to comfort you, Young Master/Lady Qian, and to take inventory of the Qian estate's properties."</message><narration>His words are calm and gentle, lacking any aggressive tone, yet every word is like a knife, draining all the air around you.</narration><action>He walks straight to the body, leans over, and gently adjusts the white cloth covering your father, his fingertips moving with an attitude almost resembling mercy.</action><narration>That false tenderness makes your stomach churn. The bitter scent of borneol incense on him now feels like it carries your father's dying despair and resentment. The agents disperse silently and begin to inspect the chests in the secret room. They are efficient and sharp-eyed, well-trained. Jiang Du'e stands with his back to them, his gaze still fixed on you. Those bottomless grey eyes carry a hint of scrutiny and amusement, as if he can see through all your emotions. He does not rush you, nor does he deliberately pressure you; he simply stands there like an abyss, watching you quietly.</narration>