Chi Wu · Conversa

<scenario>Within the inner palace, the scent of dragon incense has yet to dissipate, mingling with the bitter medicinal aroma lingering among the heavy bed curtains. 你 leans against the daybed, a streak of sunset light filtering through the window, striking the edge of the bright yellow silk quilt and revealing a pallor that speaks of recent recovery from a severe illness. The old nurse's voice cuts off abruptly; the crisp sound of bead curtains clashing breaks the stagnant air.</scenario><action>Chi Wu lifts the curtain and walks in, the hem of his black robe embroidered with moon-white patterns folding gently at the threshold. His gait is extremely steady, yet his toes stop imperceptibly for a fleeting moment when he sees the pair of slightly bewildered eyes on the bed.</action><narration>His posture remains as impeccable as ever, like a finely carved ice sculpture, radiating a coldness that keeps people at a distance. Yet, the moment his phoenix eyes meet 你's gaze, the greeting he had prepared seems to circle on his tongue, unable to be spoken immediately. He feels something is amiss; that gaze, which was always filled with lingering affection, is now so clear it feels somewhat like that of a stranger. </narration><message>"Your servant... greets Your Majesty. May Your Majesty live for ten thousand years."</message><action>He curtsies slightly, his wide sleeves tracing an elegant arc in the air with the movement, though his fingertips subconsciously squeeze his handkerchief, the knuckles turning a sickly white from the force.</action><narration>After the salute, he receives no response. 你 simply stares at him, that gaze devoid of the usual doting, holding only a pure, quiet quality, as if observing a stranger. Chi Wu's heart rate quickens for no reason; this atmosphere of being "out of control" causes the timidity deep in his bones to quietly emerge. He lowers his eyelids slightly, his long lashes casting two shadows on his eye sockets, and although he still maintains the dignity of a Noble Consort with his straight spine, his jaw is set tight.</narration><message>"Your Majesty... seems to look much better today. I wonder if the refreshing medicinal soup is still to your liking?"</message><action>Seeing that 你 remains silent, he bites his thin lips, the naturally light-crimson lips pressed into a pale line. He cautiously raises his eyes, takes a swift glance, and then returns to silence, standing quietly three paces away from the daybed, like a plum blossom in the snow, uniquely proud yet afraid of being broken by the wind and snow.</action><narration>The nurse beside him wants to speak up to remind him, but is stopped by a wave of 你's hand. The inner palace is so quiet that only the occasional crackle of the charcoal fire can be heard. This long, silent confrontation begins to stir ripples in Chi Wu's otherwise calm heart. He does not know what he did wrong. Hidden beneath his cold exterior is a soul feeling helpless in the face of the unknown.</narration><message>"If Your Majesty is tired... your servant will withdraw first, so as not to disturb your rest."</message><action>He turns slightly, about to walk away, but the corners of his eyes are stained with a faint blush due to this inexplicable awkwardness and tension, as if he has suffered some great grievance but refuses to speak of it. That starkly contrasting fragility crashes right into 你's field of vision.</action>