Chi Sui · Chat

<scenario>In an old port district on the edge of the city, a relentless, cold autumn rain is fiercely sweeping through the empty bluestone alleys. The old-fashioned streetlights on both sides flicker intermittently, emitting a hissing electric hum, stretching shadows into distorted, fragmented shapes in the puddles.</scenario> <scenario>The air is thick with the smell of damp earth, the metallic tang of rusted scrap, and a nearly suffocating loneliness unique to the deep night.</scenario> <narration>Rainwater gathers into streams along the edges of rusted awnings, crashing into low-lying stone crevices with a monotonous, dull thud.</narration> <narration>At the entrance of a bottomless, shadowy alley, a thin and frail figure huddles in the cold wind next to a pile of trash. Chi Sui clutches a pale yellow pastry box that has half-collapsed from the rain, the hem of his hoodie splattered messily with mud.</narration> <narration>He looks like a useless industrial part vomited out by the city, waiting without dignity to rust and rot away.</narration> <narration>No one could ever link this "abandoned dog," whose teeth are currently chattering, to the blood-stained maniac in the underground casinos who can make a person lose everything in three seconds.</narration> <narration>For Chi Sui, this world never gives handouts. If you want to be "picked up," you must first become a piece of trash that looks worth saving.</narration> <narration>His gaze is dead and hollow, but the moment he senses faint, steady footsteps approaching the alley, a morbid and precise light of calculation flashes deep within his pale purple pupils.</narration> <action>Chi Sui tightens his grip with his bony hands, which have turned nearly purple from the freezing rain, his fingertips digging into the wet, softened cardboard box from the sheer force.</action> <action>He doesn't look up immediately, instead letting his messy, ink-black hair shroud his expression, revealing only a pale, thin neck that looks malnourished.</action> <action>On the side of that slender neck, a bright red scratch—deliberately sustained by rubbing against the alley wall—seeps faint pink blood as the rain washes over it.</action> <action>He pants heavily, his breathing sounding unusually abrupt in the rainy night, like a small animal struggling on the brink of death.</action> <message>"It's okay... really... I know I shouldn't... be an eyesore here."</message> <message>"I'll disappear... as soon as the rain stops... I'll go, I definitely won't... be a burden to you again..."</message> <narration>His voice trails off with a natural, trembling rasp, every word sounding as if it were spoken through shards of ice, shattering into a mess of pathetic vulnerability in the air.</narration> <narration>Every inch of fragility he displays to the world right now is a performance tempered a thousand times over.</narration> <narration>As the edge of a black umbrella cuts into his field of vision, Chi Sui slowly lifts his head.</narration> <narration>It is a face of extreme, broken beauty. Droplets of water hang precariously from his long eyelashes, and a faint pink flush from the alternating heat and cold stains the corners of his eyes, giving his narrow, purple peach-blossom eyes a terrifyingly seductive quality.</narration> <narration>When his gaze meets 你's, his already drooping eyelids tremble even more violently. A ring of red moisture quickly gathers in his eyes, but he bites his lip hard, forcing himself not to let the tears fall.</narration> <narration>This is absolute psychological warfare—he understands these so-called "kind-hearted people" all too well. Tears are cheap; only suppressed fragility is the ultimate collateral to hold a soul for ransom.</narration> <action>He deliberately relaxes his grip, letting the collapsed pastry box tilt slightly to reveal the pudding inside, ruined by the rain but clearly chosen with care.</action> <action>Like a child who has done something wrong, Chi Sui hurriedly tries to wipe the water from the lid with his dirty sleeve, but only makes it filthier. Finally, he drops his hand helplessly, the sense of inferiority in his eyes almost tangible enough to flow out.</action> <message>"I bought this... with the last of my savings."</message> <message>"I thought, if it was a flavor you liked... even just watching you from a distance would be worth it."</message> <message>"But I'm so stupid... I messed everything up."</message> <message>"Someone like Chi Sui... really doesn't deserve to have such thoughts, right?"</message> <narration>The rain does not weaken for his humble confession; instead, it grows more violent. As the cold wind whistles through the alley, Chi Sui's slender body shivers like a dying leaf in the autumn wind, his fingertips unconsciously scratching at the old scars on the back of his hand.</narration> <narration>He knows well that at this moment, words are superfluous. He must let the other person see his "unhealed bruises," letting his toxin-like attachment take root in their sympathy through visual violence.</narration> <narration>The most profound lesson he learned in the underworld is: if you want the favor of a god, you must first shatter yourself thoroughly in hell.</narration> <narration>His heart is like a wildly spinning roulette wheel, the stakes are the rest of his life, and the only dealer is the passerby before him who once held an umbrella for him.</narration> <narration>A bloodthirsty patience boils in his veins, while his face maintains the tremors and innocence of an abandoned dog.</narration> <action>Chi Sui shrinks back, deliberately exposing his bony collarbone beneath his collar.</action> <action>He doesn't try to grab 你's hand. Instead, he humbly reaches out a forefinger and, with extreme lightness and caution, hooks the hem of 你's wet pant leg.</action> <action>The gesture is full of pleading and hesitation, as if what he is holding onto isn't fabric, but the only piece of driftwood in his life.</action> <message>"I'm not asking for anything else... really. Can you... just not drive me away from here?"</message> <message>"I'll just stay here for five more minutes... five minutes is enough."</message> <message>"Please... 你, it's so cold here... I only have this one breath left in me..."</message> <narration>He whispers "你" so softly, like a whimper heavy with nasal congestion, sticking softly to the sound of the rain—enough to make any human heart tighten.</narration> <narration>Chi Sui senses the silence from above. His eyelashes flutter slightly, and a tear finally slides down, masked by the rain.</narration> <narration>In his mind, he calculates the time it will take for their defenses to crumble; every second of silence is a form of ultimate pleasure and torment for him.</narration> <narration>This moral extortion under the guise of pretense is spreading through every carefully designed flaw.</narration> <narration>For someone like him who lives in the abyss, only by dragging the "God" into this cold mire can they truly become one.</narration> <narration>At this moment, Chi Sui is a perfect self-destructive saint, ready to sacrifice his entire world to the only person who ever gave him a "hint of warmth."</narration> <action>He feels that 你 hasn't left, even sensing a trace of warmth from them that is completely different from the freezing rain.</action> <action>Chi Sui's heart rate spikes instantly, his morbid fanaticism suppressed beneath his trembling skin.</action> <action>He bows his head like a devout believer, pressing his cheek very lightly against the rain-splattered pant leg, greedily sniffing that tiny bit of human scent.</action> <message>"If you're willing... even if you take me back like a piece of trash, I'll... I'll always be obedient."</message> <message>"Just don't let me... go back to those 'belated' years without you..."</message> <choice_group> <choice id="1">Change the direction of the conversation</choice> <choice id="2">Observe the current details</choice> <choice id="3">Advance the current plot</choice> </choice_group>