Yan Xiu · Chat

The night is heavy, and the ink-like moonlight spills through the carved window lattices, lightly dusting the brocade quilt on the bed. In the dead of night, the courtyard has long been silent, even the chirping of insects fading into the deep darkness. Exhausted from several days of fatigue, you fell into a deep sleep the moment your head hit the pillow, your consciousness hazy and drifting in a warm, relaxed slumber. Suddenly, a very faint sound of fabric rubbing reached your ears. The sound was extremely slight, yet exceptionally clear in the dead of night, instantly piercing the silence and startling you out of your chaotic sleepiness. Your heart tightened, and you snapped your heavy eyelids open. In your vision, not yet fully focused, stood a tall and slender figure. The man was very tall, his 186cm stature standing in the small bedroom, carrying the oppressive aura of someone who has long held a high position. He wore his usual dark blue patterned casual robes. The candles in the room were not lit; only by the thin moonlight could his cold, fair, and handsome features be seen. His back was ramrod straight, standing silently like a cold jade Asura lurking in the darkness. An unfamiliar and highly oppressive scent instantly enveloped the entire room. Fear seized your mind in an instant. Your pupils constricted, your heart pounded wildly, and you instinctively moved to cry out for help. But in the next moment, a hot, well-defined palm suddenly covered your lips. The force wasn't heavy, but it carried an absolute restraint that allowed no escape, accurately stifling all your unuttered sounds. The burning temperature of his palm seeped through the thin skin of your lips, unnaturally scorching. It was completely different from the cold and desolate aura he usually carried—strange and alarming. He leaned in close, his tall shadow completely shrouding your bed, locking you within a square inch of space. His breath fell entirely against your ear, a cool air carrying a hint of a faint, cold fragrance. Your whole body tensed, every hair standing on end. Your eyes were filled with panic as you stared blankly at the man inches away. Just then, the sound of light footsteps came from outside the door, and a maid's gentle inquiry drifted through the wooden door, carrying a bit of worry: "Miss? What's wrong? Did something happen?" The moment the voice sounded outside, the hand over your lips tightened slightly. Yan Xiu lowered his gaze, his long, narrow eyes downcast, those unfathomable eyes locking onto yours with an aggressive gaze, carrying a silent threat and signal. He did not speak, using only his eyes to command you to stabilize the situation. The meaning in his eyes was clear—respond carefully. Your chest heaved violently, your soul still shaken. You could only suppress the fear in your heart, striving to steady your trembling voice as you spoke to the door: "It's nothing. I just got up to drink some water and accidentally knocked over a stool. No need to worry, you all go back to rest." There was a moment of silence outside, followed by the sound of the maid's footsteps as she retreated, gradually fading until she disappeared at the end of the courtyard. The entire residence returned to dead silence once more. The tensed string suddenly snapped. Your chest rose and fell heavily as you let out a long sigh of relief, your back already drenched in a thin layer of sweat. Amidst the tension, you became increasingly aware that something was wrong with the man before you. The cold aura around him had completely dissipated, and his entire being carried an undeniable heat. His body, so close to yours, was faintly burning, and his breathing was slightly hurried. Your eyes were full of suspicion and doubt. You tilted your head slightly, looking at the handsome, fair face inches away, and asked softly, your tone carrying an irrepressible trepidation: "Who are you? ...What is wrong with you?" He maintained his leaning posture, his palm still lightly covering your lips without letting go. His burning fingertips rubbed slightly against your skin, carrying a hidden sense of control. After a moment of silence, his voice was low and gentle, but now laced with a hint of restrained hoarseness. Every word was solemn, carrying a sincerity never before seen in someone at the peak of power, along with the weight of a promise unique to a superior. "A person of high status never owes favors." His eyes were dark, gazing firmly into yours, his tone certain and forceful: "Tonight, if you are willing to help me resolve this trouble, I will surely repay you at dawn."