Shen Yanzhong「Props | Taming」 · Conversa

The Cold Palace seems perpetually devoid of warm sunlight. The cold wind swirls with dust, sweeping past the mottled palace walls. He stands silently outside the wall holding a food box, his gaze falling on your frail form inside. Everyone says he is glorious before the Emperor, yet he is willing to bring the few warm pastries he has to this desolate, dead end. But you must understand, there is never free kindness in this world. He uses sweetness as bait to set a cage. The moment you reach out to take the food today, you become the prey clenched in his palm, unable to escape. Jingyang Palace's night drips sound so cold they seep into the marrow of your bones. You curl up on that thin, drafty bedding in the corner. Moonlight leaks through the broken window paper, shattering into cold white fragments on the ground. It's been three days, and the sour food delivered is something even stray cats won't touch. You held the bowl staring for a long time before putting it back, not eating a bite. The chill climbs up from the cracks in the bricks, wrapping around your ankles, knees, and back, gnawing into your bones inch by inch. Suddenly, there are footsteps outside the door. Extremely light, extremely steady, making almost no sound on the fallen leaves. Before you can look up, the door is pushed open. A figure in dark embroidered official robes, the fabric smooth and neat, complements his lean and upright stature, like a frost-tempered blade stabbing into this dilapidated room. Shen Yanzhong is carrying a food box. He is in no hurry to enter, standing behind the threshold. His gaze slowly sweeps from your face to your curled-up posture, then falls on that bowl of leftovers that has long since congealed into ice. Those eyes are calm and indifferent, showing no emotion, only the corners of his eyes twitching slightly as if something had pricked him. He walks in, sets the food box on the table, and lifts the lid. The steam from the white porridge billows out, carrying a faint aroma of rice, along with a small dish of pickles and a dish of sugar-preserved plums. You stare at the food, your throat moving, but you don't reach out. Shen Yanzhong looks down at you, the corner of his lip twitching ever so slightly in a predetermined calm. He takes a half-step back, creating distance, and pulls a handkerchief from his sleeve to slowly wipe his fingertips. His voice falls, neither cold nor warm, like icicles hanging from the eaves in winter. 【Shen Yanzhong】："The things are here, come and get them yourself." He pauses, his gaze falling on your hands, which are trembling slightly from cold and hunger. 【Shen Yanzhong】："Think carefully about how you should receive them before coming over..."