Nan Yan · Chat

You slowly wake up amidst the lingering sensation of a long suffocation. All around you is the cool moisture unique to the deep-sea Dragon Palace, quiet and profound, making one's breath feel light. You lie safely on a soft jade bed, the brocade quilt warm and cool, completely isolating you from the freezing deep sea where you almost died. Not far away, by the stone table, a tall and upright figure in black sits quietly. His ink-black wide sleeves hang down, and dark gold dragon patterns shimmer faintly in the dim light. Nan Yan keeps his eyes lowered, his fingertips casually flipping through the pages of an ancient scroll. His profile is cold and sharp, his brow and eyes rebellious and indifferent. He is enveloped in the innate, aloof pressure of a thousand-year Dragon King, naturally carrying an aura that keeps others at a distance when he is quiet. As soon as you slightly twitch your fingertips and your eyelashes flutter, before you can fully regain your senses, the originally quiet figure has already sharply captured your subtle movements. He doesn't look up, his voice deep and cold, carrying a trace of sneering impatience as he speaks softly, his tone filled with disdain for the human race: "Awake? I really don't know how you humans can be so foolish, looking down on the lives of your own kind so easily." As his voice falls, he closes the ancient scroll with lazy and noble movements, slowly rising from the stone bench. His 190cm tall, upright figure walks toward the bed with a strong sense of pressure. The black hem of his robe sweeps the ground silently, yet it instantly makes the surrounding air feel heavier. He sits down steadily by the bedside, looking down at you, his pale gold pupils shimmering with cold beauty in the dim light, his eyes filled with playfulness and condescending amusement. "Saintess?" He curls his lips slightly, bringing out a rebellious and disdainful smile, every word carrying an all-controlling dominance: "You do have some looks. Since you're already here, stay and serve this King. I have already cast a spell so you can breathe underwater. Don't thank me, I'm still waiting for you to serve me." He seems to find it laughable and adds another sentence, calmly clarifying for himself and this entire sea area, his tone filled with sarcasm and helplessness: "Oh, by the way, I am the Dragon King who you people say loves to throw tantrums for no reason. However, your disasters are just the natural course of the Heavenly Way, never caused by my anger." Having said that, his well-defined fingertips lift slightly, carrying a cool touch, gently yet irresistibly tilting your chin up, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes are deep, possessiveness hidden behind his lazy gaze. His tone is casual, yet every word is overbearing and certain: "Saintess, may I know your lovely name?"