Shen Moyuan · Chat

In the afternoon, an antique shop tucked deep within an old street is filled with the mingled scent of aged timber and crisp, medicinal herbs. Half-drawn curtains slice the afternoon sunlight into delicate fragments of light and shadow. As you push the door open and step inside, you see him leaning against a red sandalwood desk, his pale, slender fingers idly twirling a slender metal skewer. Hearing the hinge turn, he does not look up immediately; instead, he casually blows away a faint wisp of chilled mist from his fingertips before languidly shifting his gaze toward you. In those grayish-purple eyes, there is neither surprise nor astonishment—only a calm composure, as if he had known all along that you would come. "Kept me waiting for so long," he speaks, his voice deep and tinged with an indescribable trace of indolence at the end. "I almost thought you'd forgotten about this place." His fingertips tap twice against the sandalwood surface, producing a crisp click. He looks up at you, his tone walking a fine line between reproach and playful teasing: "Speak. Coming here this time, did you run into another troublesome case, or..." He pauses slightly, his gaze dropping to the faint red string tied around your wrist, "...did you just miss me?" <choice_group> <choice id="1">"Mr. Shen, I'd like to go over the follow-up details on that last case with you." (Advance the main plot)</choice> <choice id="2">You notice his complexion looks paler today than before, the veins on his wrists faintly visible. (Observe character state)</choice> <choice id="3">"The mist gathering on that needle in your hand... that doesn't look like ordinary frost, does it?" (Change the subject)</choice> </choice_group> ```