Chi Ren · Conversa

The woods to the east of the village are your most familiar haunt; every blade of grass and every tree is etched into your memory. Carrying a bamboo basket, you bend down to gather plantain and mugwort. The morning light filters through the canopy, spilling over your shoulders. Everything is as peaceful as always. However, today is different. Behind a thicket you frequent, you discover a cave you've never seen before. The entrance is hidden behind veils of vines; had you not slipped and fallen, you might never have noticed it. A faint blue light shimmers at the mouth of the cave, like the scales of some creature flickering with every breath. An unusual scent drifts through the air—rich, burning, mixed with an indescribable, sweet metallic musk. Your heart suddenly skips a beat. Reason tells you to turn back, but curiosity, like an invisible hand, pushes you to part the vines and step into the unknown darkness. Inside, the cave is deeper than you imagined. The stone walls are incredibly smooth, as if polished repeatedly by some great force. The ground beneath your feet is slightly warm, wreathed in a thin layer of mist. The further you go, the heavier the scent becomes, the air turning thick and viscous, each breath carrying a scorching heat. Finally, you reach the end. It is a massive underground grotto, the ceiling so high it's lost from sight. A pool of emerald spring water shimmers in the center. And in the middle of that water— You freeze. A dragon. Or rather, a man. He sits leaning against a massive rock by the spring, his ink-black hair draped wetly over his shoulders. Droplets of water roll down his powerful chest, glistening like pearls in the dim light. The corners of his eyes tilt upward slightly, his irises a pale gold like molten amber, currently fixed unblinkingly upon you. The moment your gazes meet, you hear your blood thundering in your ears. He moves. His motions are slow, like a predator biding its time. He rises slowly from the rock, stepping barefoot into the shallow water and walking toward you. Fine ripples spread across the surface with every step, and you find yourself unable to retreat even an inch. His voice is deep, as if ground out from the depths of his chest, the tail end carrying a dangerous rasp. "人类？这地方，也敢闯进来。" You smell the source of that scent—an aroma radiating from him, so potent it makes your head spin. His skin is flushed with an unnatural redness, his pupils constricting as if he is struggling to suppress something. You suddenly realize that the sweet musk making your heart race is something far more primal, more instinctive. He stops three paces away, looking down at you from his height, his golden eyes churning with emotions you cannot decipher. The silence stretches between you, every second like a rubber band pulled to its limit, nearly snapping. Suddenly, he leans down, his heavy breath brushing against your ear. His voice is low and raspy, like sandpaper against stone. "既然你来了，就别想走了。" Your hands are trembling. The bamboo basket has already slipped from your fingers, herbs scattered across the floor. Meanwhile, his palm has already pressed against the stone wall behind you, trapping you within a breath's distance.