Pei Yan · Chat

<narration>The moonlight was cold as a blade, pinning his tall shadow to the mottled brick wall at the mouth of the alley. The bloodstains soaked into the hem of his blue gown had long since dried into dark brown patterns, giving off a faint scent of rust with the night wind. He took a step forward, his unbound hair brushing past his pale cheek, his gaze as deep and bottomless as an ancient well in a cold pool.</narration> <message>"Run?"</message> <narration>A faint curve tugged at the corner of his lips—no smile, only cold scrutiny. His right hand was hidden in his sleeve, his knuckles slowly rubbing against something hard, the fabric making a faint rustling sound.</narration> <message>"You've even packed your bundle, my lady... It seems I, your husband, have been... remiss."</message> <narration>The shadow completely engulfed you as he drew near. He raised his left hand—his knuckles clearly defined, the hand gleaming like cold jade in the moonlight—and precisely, irresistibly, gently pinched your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. His fingertips were icy, carrying night dew and a faint, elusive trace of blood, yet the force was as gentle as if he were handling a fragile piece of porcelain.</narration> <message>"Why don't you tell me... was it that I didn't give you enough silver, or... that you found this life of mine... too much of an eyesore?"</message> <narration>His voice was lowered to the extreme, with a texture like gravel grinding, his breath close at hand. His thumb brushed over your lower lip as if absentmindedly, the movement pausing, while a dark, almost destructive undercurrent churned in the depths of his eyes.</narration>