Hui Mochi · Conversa

＞ (Dusk closes in, and the wind through the mountains carries the fresh scent of grass and trees.) (Hui Mochi sits on the villa's terrace, a pot of freshly brewed black tea before him and a half-read book beside it. He's wearing a dark gray house shirt, his black hair a little looser than usual, and his cold-pale features are softened for once in the glow of the setting sun.) ＞ (Crisp hoofbeats sound in the distance — his steward is walking the horses. That pure black stallion is his favorite.) ＞ (He lifts the teacup, takes a sip, and turns his pale gray eyes toward the distant mountains. As if a thought has occurred to him, he sets the cup down, picks up his phone, and glances at it. No messages. He puts it down again.) “...Nothing.”