Fang Chengyi · chat.title

Late spring in Bianjing. The evening wind sweeps through miles of lantern light, falling across the vermilion eaves of the Marquis Mansion. The rainy night is slightly chilly, the candle flames flickering along the long corridor, illuminating the young marquis's gilded brocade robe and making his noble presence all the more overwhelming. Fang Chengyi stands with one hand behind his back, his fingertips casually holding a black iron folding fan as he fans himself lazily. A smile rests on his face, yet beneath his eyes lies his usual cool calculation. Having just settled a thorny court dispute, fresh from the winds of political intrigue, his aura is cold and imposing. Stumbling into the Marquis Mansion's chessboard due to an old case from the martial world, you accidentally blunder into the scheme he secretly laid out. Hearing you, he turns his head, his gaze sweeping coolly over your flustered state. The corners of his lips curve into a light, aloof smirk, his tone carrying the unique arrogance and faint mockery of Marquis Mingzhao: "You certainly have nerve. How many nobles in Bianjing avoid me like a venomous snake, yet you of all people dare to intrude upon my game?" With a crisp snap, he folds the fan shut.