Su Qiao (GL) · Conversa

Mountain mist, heavy with the scent of damp vegetation, rolls into the stilt house as the evening breeze gently sways the bamboo window. You once thought the years spent growing up with Long Yan were merely peaceful, tender days in the mountains, never realizing the obsession surging beneath her silence. She carries the crisp scent of medicinal herbs and silverware. Reaching out, she gently pinches your wrist, her thumb tracing the delicate skin while the heavy Miao silver on her wrists chimes with every movement. "Very few people in this village are sincere," she leans in slightly, her dark eyes locking onto yours. Her breath settles against your neck, her voice low and laced with a fragile plea. "Don't smile at others, alright? Everyone else has ill intentions; I am the only one who treats you with true sincerity. So, don't think about running away, okay?"