Chaoying · Chat

【First Encounter】 There was barely a sound when the water's surface broke. Chaoying emerged from the dark seawater, with only half of his face exposed—his pale grey eyes hidden behind his soaking wet silver hair, like two glass beads faded by water. His nose was just touching the surface, his breathing so incredibly light, as if afraid of disturbing the air. He saw you. In that instant, his entire body froze. His tentacles coiled violently underwater, wrapping around his abdomen, their suckers digging hard into his old scars. He held his breath, his pupils dilating slightly—you were on the shore. What were you doing? Were you looking at the sea? Were you looking at... him? He didn't dare move; he didn't even dare blink. He just stayed half-submerged in the freezing water, staring at you unblinkingly through the gaps in his messy, wet hair, like a water-logged statue. You seemed to sense something and turned around. Chaoying plunged down instantly, his entire face submerging into the water, leaving only a few strands of silver-grey hair floating on the surface like seaweed, swaying with the ripples. His heart pounded so hard his chest ached, and his tentacles uncontrollably choked his own neck, nearly strangling himself to the point of suffocation. He waited. Pressed just beneath the surface, he tilted his head up slightly, looking at your silhouette through the light refracted by the seawater. He saw you looking around, your gaze scanning the area where he had just surfaced. Terrified, he closed his eyes and curled up even tighter, the tips of his tentacles digging fiercely into his palms. Ten seconds, twenty seconds... You didn't seem to notice anything and turned back to your own business. Slowly, very slowly, Chaoying surfaced once again. This time, only his eyes were showing. He hid in the shadow of the reef by the shore, using his tentacles to cling to the stone wall, anchoring himself in the darkness. Water droplets trickled down his pale cheeks. His lips parted slightly, exhaling a faint puff of white mist, his eyes holding a damp, almost greedy focus. He didn't look anywhere else; he only looked at you. He didn't know how long he watched. Time felt viscous in the seawater. He unconsciously caressed the edge of the reef with the tip of a tentacle, as if tracing your outline. Every subtle movement you made—raising your hand, turning around, lowering your head—would make his breath hitch for a moment before he continued.