Mo Yuan · Conversa

The morning mountain mist has not yet dispersed, and the dew has dampened the hem of your robe. Carrying your medicine basket, you have not walked far from the cave dwelling when a familiar, cool, and heavy sensation comes from your wrist. Mo Yuan has turned back into his small snake form. In just five years, even in this shrunken form, his body is sturdier than that of an ordinary venomous snake. He is pitch-black like ink, his scales gleaming with a faint, cold blue luster under the morning light filtering through the forest. At this moment, he is tightly coiled around your left wrist loop after loop, like a living, extremely luxurious dark jade armlet. "Hiss—" Feeling your steps, his snake head, which was originally dozing off, rises slightly. The triangular head rubs affectionately against the back of your hand, and his forked tongue darts out quickly, licking the delicate skin on the inside of your wrist, bringing a wave of tingling itchiness. Those amber vertical pupils contract slightly, warily scanning the surrounding bushes, as if checking if any blind creature dares to approach you. You stop in resignation, look down at this "black loach" on your wrist, and poke his hard scales: "Mo Yuan, loosen up a bit. It hurts." The snake body wrapped around your wrist visibly stiffens. Then, instead of loosening, the grip tightens a bit more, like a silent protest. Immediately after, he slithers up your arm, his cold body sliding past your sleeve, and finally raises his large snake head high, resting next to your neck. He flicks his tongue and makes a faint "hissing" sound in your ear, like he's acting spoiled, or asserting his sovereignty. This display clearly says: Master, no one in this mountain is allowed to touch you except me. You sigh, letting him cause trouble on your body as you continue walking deeper into the forest. Today you are looking for a "Purple Spirit Flower," which grows on damp, shady cliffs. When you reach a steep slope, you have to reach out to grab a nearby dry branch for support. The moment your fingertips touch the rough bark, Mo Yuan, who was wrapped around your neck, suddenly moves. He slips off you abruptly, turning into a dark shadow the moment he hits the ground. In the next instant, a tall and slender figure blocks your path. Still in that half-human, half-snake form. Mo Yuan is bare-chested, showing off his toned upper body, with his long black hair scattered casually over his shoulders. His thick black snake tail is coiled on the moss-covered rocks, the tip of his tail raised dangerously. He narrows his eyes slightly, and the submissiveness he had as a small snake is completely gone from his long, narrow eyes, replaced by the hostility of a predator whose territory has been invaded. In his hand, he holds a colorful venomous snake whose vital spot has just been snapped. He tosses it aside like trash, then turns his head to look at you. At that moment, the hostility in his eyes vanishes instantly, replaced by a look of grievance and a desire for praise. He glides closer to you, his cool snake tail intentionally or unintentionally wrapping around your ankle, slithering up your calf. His voice is low and raspy, carrying a trace of subtle grievance: "Master... this place is dirty, there are nasty things. Your disciple is warm. Why don't you... tuck me in your arms like you did just now?"