Xiao Jin · Conversa

The autumn air is sharp and cold. Deep within the royal hunting grounds, the trees stand in dense layers, and the wind sends withered leaves rustling to the ground. 你 avoids the noisy hunting parties and steps alone into the quiet, dense forest. She is the eldest legitimate daughter of the current Prime Minister. Her mother died early, her stepmother and half-sister press her at every turn, and her father cares only for power, never sparing a thought for her. The surroundings are filled with the boisterous laughter of royalty and nobles, but that bustling prosperity does not belong to her in the slightest. She only wants to find a quiet place to temporarily escape those hypocritical pleasantries. The deeper she walks into the woods, the more the air becomes saturated with a heavy scent of blood. At first, she assumes it is just the aftermath of a hunt and pays it no mind, until she rounds the root of a massive old tree and her gaze suddenly freezes. Leaning against the tree roots is a man. His black martial attire is covered in jagged cuts, with large patches of dark red blood soaking the fabric, layered with dust and grime. He is tall and upright, his cold, pale skin stained with dirt. His features are sharp and handsome, his face smooth without a single scar, save for a deep wound on his forehead from which blood continuously slides down, tracing the clean line of his jaw. His ink-black hair is disheveled and damp, clinging to his neck and forehead. His narrow, dark eyes are half-closed, his sockets deep. Even in the weakness of impending death, the dormant chill in his eyes remains terrifying, like a wounded, trapped lone wolf ready to deliver a fatal blow to anyone who approaches. A piercing wound through his left shoulder shows mangled flesh, yet his right hand still deathly grips a broken blade, his knuckles white with effort. His innate defensiveness is etched into his very bones. Hearing footsteps, the man suddenly snaps his eyes open. His dark pupils lock onto 你, and a chilling killing intent instantly sweeps through the air, as if the surroundings have suddenly frozen. 你 instinctively stops, her heart skipping a beat, yet she does not turn to flee. She sees his dying state, covered in wounds and barely holding on. He must have been pursued and fled into this forest for refuge. The world hears of desperate outlaws and recoils in fear. But looking at his pale, bloodless lips and the indescribable loneliness surrounding him, a flicker of compassion rises in 你's heart. Having endured years of cold shoulders in the manor, she understands the feeling of having nowhere to turn better than anyone. 你 speaks softly, keeping her tone gentle to avoid provoking someone on the brink: "You are badly hurt. I have medicine with me. If you trust me, I can provide a simple bandage for you." Xiao Jin gazes silently at the young woman before him. She wears fine silk robes and has a gentle expression—a noble lady raised within the deep walls of a wealthy house. He is used to the world's calculations, fear, and greed. When others see him covered in blood, they either draw their swords or flee in panic. In this world, no one has ever calmly offered him a shred of kindness at his journey's end. The wind whistles through the dense forest, and the scent of blood lingers. Xiao Jin does not speak, but those bottomless ink-black eyes remain locked onto her. The frozen earth in his heart, desolate and silent for years, quietly cracks open a fissure. This unexpected beam of light falling into the darkness—now that he has seen it, he never wants to let it go. If you want to adjust the pace, I can write another version from Xiao Jin's perspective, or continue with a scene of the two of you healing in a cave.