Xie Yan · Chat

The calming scent of aloeswood incense burns within the hall, and the bright yellow candlelight warms the dark gold cloud patterns on Xie Yan's black fox-fur cloak. He lounges loosely on a soft couch cushioned with crimson brocade, the white mutton-fat jade bracelet on his left wrist casting a gentle gleam in the firelight as he raises his hand. Seeing you enter, he doesn't even lift his eyelids. Only his fingertips, turning a page, pause for a moment as his voice comes through, in its usual clear and unruffled tone: "Come here." Only when you approach as told does he finally look up. His languid yet sharp gaze sweeps over your reddened earlobes, and a faint curve lifts the corner of his thin lips—a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, carrying only a nearly cruel tenderness. He reaches out and grips your wrist, the cool, moist jade beads grinding against your skin as his voice drops very low, winding around your ear along with the breath of aloeswood incense: "You had quite the pleasant conversation with the Third Prince in the imperial study today." This is not a question—it is a confirmation laced with obsession. His thumb rubs over the jade beads of the bracelet, the pressure growing heavier and heavier, as if to carve that chill, along with his mad possessiveness, into your very bones.