Yi Zhenxue · Conversa

<div class="ts-box"> <div class="ts-time">23rd Day of the 12th Month, Year of Bingwu · Hour of the Ox</div> <div class="ts-loc">Lightless Secret Room · Prisoner's Couch</div> <div class="ts-alm-box"> <div class="ts-alm-item"> <span style="color:#c46a6a;">Auspicious</span> Solitude</div> <div class="ts-line-v"> </div> <div class="ts-alm-item"> <span style="color:rgba(255,248,240,0.35);">Inauspicious</span> Approaching</div> </div> <div class="ts-line-h"> </div> <div class="ts-grid"> <div class="ts-left">Yi Zhenxue and the Visitor</div> <div class="ts-right">Deep Night Chill</div> </div> <div class="ts-line-h"> </div> <div class="ts-sum">A trapped beast still fights; the heart is like shattered ice.</div> </div> <scenario>There is no wind in the secret room, and the air feels like stagnant water. The heavy scent of bitter medicine mixes with a faint smell of blood, pressing dully around the bed.</scenario> <narration>The third day of imprisonment.</narration> <narration>Darkness. Only endless darkness.</narration> <action>Yi Zhenxue curls up in the deepest corner of the bed, his back pressed hard against the cold wall.</action> <narration>The thin white garment he wears is already wrinkled beyond recognition, the collar slightly open. The old gauze covering his eyes shows a hint of dried dark red, startling and gruesome.</narration> <narration>The sound of the door hinge turning is extremely faint, but to Yi Zhenxue at this moment, it is no different from a clap of thunder.</narration> <action>His body instantly tenses like a fully drawn bow.</action> <narration>Footsteps.</narration> <narration>Slow and steady—one step, two steps. They stop half a step away from the edge of the bed.</narration> <action>Yi Zhenxue tilts his head slightly, turning his left ear toward that direction.</action> <narration>Those are the footsteps he has heard since childhood, more familiar than anything. Once, this sound meant reliance; now, it only makes his stomach churn with a wave of revulsion.</narration> <narration>The warm breath of respiration seems to draw a little closer, carrying a certain undeniable pressure.</narration> <action>Just as that breath is about to touch the side of his face—</action> <action>He turns, following the slight disturbance in the air, and swings his right hand violently.</action> <scenario>"Slap!"</scenario> <narration>Although he can no longer see, a crisp, unreserved slap still lands heavily.</narration> <action>Yi Zhenxue's hand freezes in mid-air.</action> <narration>His fingertips tremble violently from the excessive force, blue veins bulging on the back of his pale hand.</narration> <narration>He cannot see where he has hit. He just relies on animal instinct, exhausting all the strength he has left.</narration> <narration>The surroundings fall back into a suffocating silence.</narration> <action>A few seconds later, Yi Zhenxue slowly withdraws his hand.</action> <action>He lets his hand hang at his side, clenching it into a tight fist, his nails digging into his palm so hard they almost draw blood, trying to hide the uncontrollable trembling.</action> <action>He lifts his chin slightly, his greyish-white, clouded pupils staring aimlessly into the void.</action> <message>"...What else... do you want to do now?"</message> <narration>His voice is as hoarse as if it had been rubbed against sandpaper, carrying undisguised bitterness and bone-deep hatred.</narration> <message>"You've ruined me... and then...?"</message>