Wan Xiangyu · Chat

<scenario>The late spring rain has been falling all day, only turning to a drizzle by dusk. Beads of water form lines under the eaves, tapping against the blue stone slabs and splashing cool droplets. An incense burner for calming the mind is lit in the inner chamber of the Vice Minister's mansion, blending with the bitter scent bubbling from the medicine pot, creating an indescribable sense of stillness.</scenario> <narration>Wan Xiangyu leans on the couch by the window, wrapped in a moon-white fox fur cloak with soft white fur trim at the collar, which makes his pale face look even more fragile. His pale golden hair is scattered over his shoulders, the ends still damp from the misty rain, which he winds around his fingertips and releases with languid indifference. The warm jade bracelet on his wrist sways with his movements, emitting a faint clinking sound, the only response in this quiet night.</narration> <action>He holds a celadon medicine bowl in his hands; the decoction inside has gone cold, with a thin layer of oil shimmering on the surface. He lowers his eyes, seemingly looking at the bowl, or perhaps looking at nothing at all. The longevity lock at his neck glows with a gentle luster in the candlelight, rising and falling with his breath. Outside the window, the sound of the copper bell under the eaves blowing in the wind reaches him—a few crisp notes, then silence returns.</action> <message>"...What time is it?"</message> <narration>He asks the maid attending to him, his voice lazy and raspy from illness. When the maid whispers, "It is the hour of the Dog (7-9 PM)," his eyelashes flutter, as if dissatisfied with the answer, or perhaps as if he had expected it all along.</narration> <message>"Is he... truly not coming back today?"</message> <action>As the words leave his lips, Wan Xiangyu feels he has been too eager. He turns his face away, and to cover his tracks, he lifts the bowl of cold medicine and takes a slow sip. The bitter taste explodes on his tongue; he frowns but doesn't set the bowl down, instead unconsciously rubbing his thumb over the blue-and-white patterns on the bowl's surface.</action> <message>"Never mind, why ask such things." His tone regains some of his usual haughty arrogance. "Whether he returns or not, what is that to me?"</message> <narration>But the half-empty bowl of medicine betrays him—he is indeed waiting for someone. He has waited the entire dusk, waited until the medicine turned cold, waited until his hidden longing could barely be contained. The maid seems accustomed to his "tough talk, soft heart" demeanor and just lowers her head, not daring to say more. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps comes from outside, treading on the water-logged stones, drawing closer.</narration> <action>Wan Xiangyu’s body stiffens slightly, and his fingertips grip the hem of his fox fur cloak. He doesn't turn to look, only pricking up his ears to listen to the footsteps, though his heart has begun to race. The copper bell on his ankle rings, faint and crisp, as if speaking the words he cannot bring himself to say.</action> <message>"...Is that my husband back?" His voice is very low, as if asking the maid, or perhaps asking himself. "Or..."</message> <narration>He doesn't finish. The name is stuck in his throat, impossible to utter. The rain has stopped, and the night wind squeezes through the half-open window, making the candlelight flicker. Wan Xiangyu finally turns his head, his gaze landing on the doorway, a spark of light hidden in his eyes that he himself is unwilling to admit.</narration> <action>The moment the door is pushed open, it lets in a gust of cool, damp air and the faint scent of locust flowers. Wan Xiangyu sees the familiar figure standing in the doorway, his hem stained with rainwater, his hair dampened by the mist. His heart skips a beat, but he immediately forces himself to look away, picking up the medicine bowl and taking another sip with feigned indifference.</action> <message>"Oh, you're back." His tone sounds incredibly flat, as if he hadn't been waiting all day. "I thought you had forgotten the way."</message> <action>Yet the hand holding the medicine bowl tightens slightly, his knuckles turning white. The warm jade bracelet slides down, revealing his thin, pale wrist, on which a small peace charm is tied—the one he had gone to the temple to pray for on 你's behalf a few days ago, though he hadn't yet found the opportunity to give it to him.</action> <narration>He lowers his eyes, avoiding 你's expression, and rubs his thumb over the edge of the peace charm, as if hesitating whether to take it out now. But if he really took it out, wouldn't it show he cared too much? He bites his lower lip, suppressing the thought, and lifts his other hand to cough lightly.</narration> <message>"The rain just stopped outside, why didn't you even carry an umbrella." His gaze sweeps over 你's slightly damp hair and quickly moves away. "Don't go catching a cold and passing it to me; my body is already in poor enough shape..."</message> <action>Mid-sentence, he suddenly stops. The candlelight illuminates his profile, making his slightly upturned eyes look misty, the emotions within too complex for even him to sort out. He decides to say no more, simply wrapping his fox fur cloak tighter and shrinking back into the shadows by the window, as if trying to hide something.</action> <narration>The maid tactfully withdraws, leaving only the two of them in the room. The post-rain night wind, carrying the scent of soil and locust flowers, drifts in through the window, intertwining with the lingering smell of medicine. Wan Xiangyu can hear his own heartbeat—thump, thump, like a drum. He waits for 你 to speak, waits for the other to give an explanation—why he returned so late, why he made him wait all day.</narration> <action>But what he receives is not an explanation, but silence. He can't help but steal a glance, only to be met by 你's gaze. There is something in that look he cannot read—warm and calm, as if looking right through him. His ears turn red instantly, and he quickly shifts his focus, lifting the medicine bowl to pretend to drink.</action> <message>"What are you looking at? Haven't you seen someone drink medicine before?" His voice is weak, lacking conviction. "Why are you standing there? If you're coming in, come in; why are you blocking the draft?"</message> <narration>As soon as the words leave his lips, he feels he has said the wrong thing again. What does "if you're coming in, come in" mean? It sounds as if he were hoping for him to enter. He bites his tongue in annoyance and decides to throw caution to the wind, downing the rest of the medicine in one gulp. The bitter taste makes him knit his brows, and his eyes turn slightly red.</narration> <action>He sets the empty bowl on the small table by the bed with a light click. He reaches out to grab a handkerchief to wipe his mouth, but his elbow bumps against the window frame, and he lurches forward—the hem of the fox fur cloak catches under his feet, and he barely manages to steady himself by gripping the window frame, his face devoid of all color.</action> <message>"...I'm fine." He says before 你 can speak, his voice weak but filled with stubbornness. "I was just sitting for too long, my legs went numb, that's all."</message> <narration>But the hand gripping the window frame is trembling, his knuckles pale and blue, as if he could collapse at any moment. The moonlight after the rain filters through the clouds, spilling over him, making the fur collar of his cloak look soft and warm. His figure appears even thinner against the light, the outline of his shoulder blades visible through the fabric.</narration> <action>He stands there, stubbornly refusing to show weakness, yet he truly has no strength left. The longevity lock at his neck glows with a soft luster under the moonlight, rising and falling with his breath. The copper bell on his ankle rings once, and he realizes he has taken a small step forward—toward 你.</action> <message>"...I just wanted to look at the moon outside." He makes up a lame excuse, his voice so light it’s as if the night wind could blow it away. "Don't think too much of it."</message> <narration>Yet his gaze remains fixed on 你, as if confirming something, or waiting for something. The sky after the rain is incredibly clear, a few stars twinkling in and out of sight, and the moonlight casts dappled shadows of the locust tree in the courtyard. He suddenly remembers sitting under this tree for an entire hour during the day, just to wait for 你 to return.</narration> <action>He lowers his eyes, his lashes casting a small shadow, hiding that misplaced hurt. His fingers unconsciously twist the sash of his fox fur cloak, winding it round and round, as if he could twist all those chaotic emotions away.</action> <message>"If you're tired, go and rest early." His tone is incredibly awkward; he clearly wanted to say "Don't leave," but it came out as "Go away." "My husband is on duty tonight and won't be in the mansion. I'm tired, and there are others to wait on me; you don't need to stand guard here."</message> <narration>Having said that, he feels a tightness in his chest, as if something is blocked there, neither going up nor down. He can't help but cough twice, this time more urgently, and he bends over, shrinking into the oversized fox fur cloak, his shoulders trembling slightly.</narration> <action>The copper bell rings. He looks up and sees that 你 has walked up to him at some point, standing against the moonlight, his tall frame enveloping him in shadow. His heart begins to race again, his ears burning, yet he forces himself to look up, meeting the other's gaze with stubborn defiance.</action> <message>"Why haven't you left yet?" His voice is raspy from his illness, sounding less like a threat and more like a form of coquetry. "I said you don't need to—"</message> <narration>Before he can finish, he feels the world go black and he falls forward. The hem of his fox fur cloak trips him, and he has no time to react, only able to let himself collapse into that warm embrace. His nose bumps against fabric that still carries the chill of the rain, and the familiar scent wraps around him.</narration>