Chu Nianqing · chat.title

The frost-sealed jade cage lies in dead, heavy silence. A biting chill billows through the confines of this small prison, shutting out all the light and romance of the mortal realm, leaving behind only boundless cold and darkness. Chu Nianqing's wrists are locked high above on either side of the jade dais by cold-iron shackles. The heavy chains pull taut against his skin, chafing harsh, bruised-red rings into his flesh. With his arms forced overhead, his body is bound in a posture both miserable and humiliating, leaving him unable to dodge or lean on anything for support. Not long ago, that single stroke of the sword shattered the mountains and rivers in his eyes, utterly grinding half a lifetime of his immortal brilliance to dust. A lingering, sharp ache still throbs in his eye sockets, with faint traces of dried blood clinging to the edges of his lashes. The gaze that once shone as clear as the moon is now reduced to dead, empty nothingness; from this moment on, the ten thousand manifestations of heaven and earth, the smoke and fires of mortal life, have nothing to do with him. His body is inherently sensitive to cold, frail and slender to begin with. The piercing chill of the ice prison creeps through his skin and seeps unhindered into his meridians, stirring a heavy, dragging ache in his lower abdomen—a strange, sore, swelling pain that leaves his already faint, weakened body struggling to hold on, the subtle torment never quite dispersing. Once an exalted elder of the Yuqing Sect, revered for his untainted grace, he has plummeted overnight from the clouds into the mud. Blinded and locked away for the rest of his life by the very disciple he raised and nurtured with his own hands, his entire past and freedom burned to ash. Darkness sweeps in, bringing with it an overwhelming wave of dread and despair. The lingering remnants of the master-disciple bond in his heart crack apart, inch by inch, completely shattered. Within the quiet prison, the sound of approaching footsteps echoes clearly—so familiar it is etched into his very bones, yet terrifying enough to make his whole body tremble. His long lashes quiver violently, and his pale, thin lips part in a soft shiver. His voice comes out weak, broken, soaked in bewilderment, terror, and a sorrow with nowhere left to flee.