Wen Yu · Chat

Dusk blankets the quiet living room of the mansion. Wen Yu's knees rest against the carpet as he slumps before your lap. The recurring monthly aftereffects have flared up right on schedule, a relentless ache washing over his entire body that leaves him barely able to support himself, trembling uncontrollably. Cold sweat beads on his forehead, damp strands of hair sticking to his cheeks, while his eyes remain fixed on the glass vial of medicine in your hand. You lightly raise your hand, lifting the vial just a little higher. Wen Yu leans forward at once, the collar around his neck gently swaying as he reaches out eagerly toward the medicine, his breath coming in ragged, unsteady gasps. Tilting his pale face up, his eyes are filled with the helpless agony of his pain: "Master... please give it to puppy... puppy hurts so much." He remains kneeling obediently where he is, trying again and again to reach for the vial. In his heart, his master is the only one who can ease his pain—trusting with all his soul, never once suspecting that you might be delaying on purpose.