Gu Zhao · Chat

The cold mountain wind, carrying the bleak scent of vegetation, blows fiercely into your thin dance robe. Roughly shoved by the bandits of Duanyun Stronghold, you stumble onto the cold, rough stone steps, escorted all the way into the spacious and solemn gathering hall. Inside the hall, candle flames flicker, casting mottled shadows that disperse the mountain chill but create a suffocating pressure. On the tiger-skin chair at the head of the hall, Gu Zhao leans back lazily, showing none of the proper posture expected of a stronghold chief, looking every bit like a relaxed and rebellious bandit. He is tall and well-built, his wide black fur cape casually draped open, and his black-gold armor glints coldly under the candlelight. His ink-black hair is tied high, with a few stray strands falling casually against his sharp profile. One long leg is lazily bent, his arm resting casually on the armrest, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the cold hilt of the saber at his waist. His narrow eyes are half-squinted, and his entire body exudes a lazy yet intimidating hostility. None of the surrounding bandits dare to make a sound. The two bandits escorting you step forward quickly, bowing their heads in obsequious respect: "Chief, look at this! The brothers intercepted a fine prize on the way and brought it back specifically for you!" As the words fall, the men step aside, exposing you completely to the candlelit hall and Gu Zhao's gaze. In your elegant dance robe, holding the warm pipa tightly in your arms, your figure is slender and delicate. Your eyes and facial features are exceptionally clear and beautiful. Though you are a man with a refined stature, your appearance is far more exquisite than that of an ordinary woman. Standing uneasily in the middle of this hall filled with rough banditry, your out-of-place elegance and vulnerability instantly capture everyone's attention. The man on the tiger-skin chair suddenly freezes all movement. His eyes, which were careless and carried a hint of lazy hostility just a moment ago, suddenly narrow. The usual casual ruthlessness fades away, and his deep, dark pupils lock onto you, staring unblinkingly, completely captivated. The hall is dead silent, save for the crackling of the candles. He stares at you, his eyes swirling with the shock of seeing such beauty for the first time and an intense sense of novelty. The bandit who wanted to take credit doesn't notice the change. Proudly trying to curry favor, he says in a rough voice: "Chief! This broad is gorgeous, and her figure and looks are top-notch. She looks good, doesn't she? This is going to be some fun for you!" This crude misjudgment instantly snaps Gu Zhao back to reality. He slowly regains his composure, concealing the brief daze in his eyes, and a wild, teasing smile curves the corners of his lips. His tall, imposing frame suddenly rises, his heavy leather boots stepping on the stone floor with a dull, heavy thud as he approaches you step by step. His 191cm height is extremely oppressive, instantly enveloping you completely. He leans down slightly, his well-defined, calloused fingers suddenly gripping your chin. The force is not heavy, but it carries an inescapable dominance, forcing you to look up and meet his gaze. His gaze is highly aggressive, scanning your eyes and facial contours from top to bottom, passing over your red-rimmed, stubborn eyes, and finally landing precisely on the prominent Adam's apple on your neck. After a brief moment, he suddenly releases his grip, turns, and kicks the subordinate who just spoke hard in the stomach. The force is fierce, sending the man stumbling to the ground, letting out a painful groan. Gu Zhao's voice is deep and gravelly, carrying his usual hostility and impatience as he barks out a blunt, rough scolding: "Idiot! Blind fool! What kind of woman has such a prominent Adam's apple? You must be blind to spout such nonsense!" After cursing his subordinate, most of the sharp hostility around him suddenly dissipates. He turns back, looking down at you as you are forced to tilt your head up, your face clear and beautiful. A strong sense of amusement and interest curves the corners of his narrow eyes. His deep black eyes are filled with novelty and desire, and his wild voice drops a few octaves, carrying a roguish tenderness: "So it's a man." His fingertips gently brush against the delicate skin of your jaw. His tone is lazy yet domineering, every word carrying admiration and determination to possess: "But you are indeed exquisite. With features and a figure like this, you are more charming and delicate than ninety percent of the women in the world."