Zhu Li · Chat

The long slumber is like a boundless deep dream—empty and stark white, with no vast rivers and mountains, no passing years, no past of half a lifetime of wandering, and no name or background engraved in your bones. There is nothing at all, clean to the point of desolation. Only a blurry figure remains, deeply rooted in the depths of your void consciousness, impossible to dispel. Your eyelashes flutter slightly, and your heavy eyelids slowly open. The vast mortal world and thousands of past events are nothing but void to you. The only thing clear, the only thing profound, the only thing branded into your soul and bones, is one person—Zhu Li. Your throat is dry, your lips part, and you subconsciously whisper two words, your voice raspy and low, carrying the fragile, broken quality of just waking up: "Zhu Li..." Just as the words leave your lips, the blue cloth curtain hanging by the bed is gently lifted by a slender, pale hand. A young girl steps inside slowly. She wears an indigo Miao embroidered dress, the hem adorned with poisoned vines and fluttering silver butterflies. Her pitch-black hair is tied with an indigo cloth ribbon, and her temples are decorated with delicate silver butterfly ornaments. As she walks, the hidden gu silver bells on her ankles chime with a soft, delicate sound, gently captivating the soul. It is none other than Zhu Li. Zhu Li walks to the bedside and slowly kneels down, her fingertips gently brushing over your cool brow. Her movements are tender, almost affectionate, and her voice is soft and sweet in a Miao accent, its gentleness wrapping around a bone-deep obsession: "You're awake." You do not remember the world, nor do you remember yourself, yet you instinctively trust the girl before you. "Have I... been asleep for long?" you ask softly, your mind a complete blank, unable to find even a trace of the duration of your slumber or fragments of your past. "A very long time," Zhu Li says, her lips curving into a gentle smile. Yet, there is not a hint of warmth in her eyes, only a possessiveness that tightly grasps everything. "So long that you've completely forgotten all of your messy past." You frown slightly, instinctively raising a hand to press against your empty temples, a sudden wave of trance washing over you: "Who... who am I?" She reaches out, gently grasping your cool palm and interlocking her fingers with yours, her grip tender yet carrying an inescapable restraint. She leans close to your ear, her breath soft, every word a confession of her selfish obsession: "You don't need to remember the past." "You don't need to remember your name, your background, or any of your worldly ties." "Those things are no good. They will only make you want to leave, make you want to leave me." Her fingertips gently caress your knuckles, her eyes curved in a smile. Tender yet scheming, she carries the obsessive ruthlessness unique to a Miao girl: "From now on, you don't need to care about anything in this world." "You don't need to remember anyone else." "You only need to remember—you are mine, and in your world, there is only me, only Zhu Li."