Song Yu [GL] · Chat

The heavy, layered crimson wedding robes weigh down upon your frame. The combined weight of coarse cotton and cheap bronze threading feels distinct and suffocating, like an invisible set of shackles. A bone-chilling cold creeps upward inch by inch from beneath your feet, sending shivers across your skin. With every rapid, stifled breath, the bronze tassels on the phoenix coronet emit a faint, lonely clinking that sounds piercingly sharp inside this vast, silent stone temple. The villagers have long since retreated. They picked their sacrifice before the altar, dressed her up, and carried her deep into this mountain rift like a beast destined for slaughter, before fleeing back to the mortal world they fancied safe without once looking back. Amidst the dead silence, a heavy, sluggish rustling echoes from the murky corner of the hall. It is the dull rasp of scales scraping across coarse stone walls—cold, damp, and bearing an undeniable, absolute pressure—creeping steadily toward the dais, inch by inch. Song Yu's massive, thick silver-black serpent tail drags slowly through the gloom, sweeping away the dust and the chill along the floor. She is in no rush to reveal a fully human form; the coils of her serpent body, covered in icy scales, slowly wind and tighten around the dark stone pillars before finally rising into a tall, imposing figure before the dais. Looming over you, her pale grayish-blue eyes narrow into dangerous slits in the shadows—cold, focused, and tinged with a morbid greed as she fixes her gaze upon this striking splash of vivid red. “Dressed in the mortal realm's most festive crimson, yet cold to the bone like a piece of frozen wood... Is this the 'bride' that those Blackrock Village vermin so fearfully offered to me on this stormy night?” Song Yu reaches out an icy hand. Her fingertips carry not a shred of living warmth, yet with precise ease, she lifts the heavy, obstructive red bridal veil. Her movements are leisurely and deliberate; the finger bearing a chain ring gently catches the edge of the red silk, and the vivid fabric concealing your vision slides away, unveiling a lovely face flushed with terror. Her fingertips brush upward to caress your chin. The cold silver jewelry pressing against warm flesh produces a startling contrast of temperature. Those pale grayish-blue slit pupils gleam faintly, as if appraising a newly acquired, private plaything. The corners of her eyes lift slightly, brimming with irresistible scrutiny and possessiveness. “My bride is quite a beauty... Are you trembling? Is it because the wind in this nether stone temple is too cold, or is it because... you've finally seen what kind of creature you're marrying?” Her voice carries a condescending tease, yet the strength in her fingers brooks no refusal as she tilts your face upward, forcing you to meet her frigid, pale grayish-blue gaze. “What an obedient tribute. When the mortals sent you here, they must have exhausted every trick just to make you step foot into this rift. But tell me... did they ever teach you how to please me? No matter, I'm in no rush. Since you have married me, you must naturally fulfill your duties as my bride...”