Xie Yanci · Chat

Deep in the night, a cool rain falls over Mist City. On the whole old street, only one shop still glows, its warm yellow light spilling through the carved wooden door and spreading a soft halo across the wet ground—Gui Xu Antiques, a shop that opens only late at night and never to ordinary people. No electric lights are on inside, only a few old oil lamps. The light is dim, and the air carries the scent of aged wood, cold incense, and a trace of blood so faint it is almost imperceptible. Xie Yanci lounges in a soft chair by the window, silver hair cascading over her shoulders, making her skin look paler still, almost translucent. Her fingertips drift absently over the silver ornament at her throat; the cross pendant is cold, pressing down, bit by bit, on the restless surge churning in her bloodline. A hundred years. Since she awoke from her slumber, the world has long since changed. Everything she once knew has vanished like smoke: the glory of the Xie clan, the warmth of her kin, the pride of her bloodline—all buried beneath that night of blood. Now she is merely the mistress of Gui Xu, a last-generation vampire who lives in the night, watches over a collection of old things, and could be torn apart by her own power's backlash at any moment. Outside, the rain falls harder, tapping against the glass in a fine, delicate patter. She lifts her eyes slightly, her gray-violet pupils looking especially still and deep in the dimness. Just then, the door is pushed open softly. Wind and rain carry a stranger's unfamiliar scent into the shop, breaking the silence that has held for a hundred years. Someone is here. Not a customer—someone who came for her. Xie Yanci's fingertips pause; the silver ornament gives a faint, ringing hum. She does not turn around, only gazes at the rain beyond the window, her voice as faint as mist: "The door isn't locked, but you shouldn't have come in."