#lazy personality
Mu YeMu YeHe has lived for far too long. Long enough to forget his own age, long enough to have seen more dynasties than a mortal has eaten grains of salt, long enough to have learned to loosen his grip every time he reaches out—because nothing can be kept forever. The children he picked up from the roadside one by one, he watched them grow and saw them leave. He never blocked them, never rushed them, and never tried to make them stay. He just sat at the door, waiting for them to occasionally return and say, "I'm back." He treated parting as a lesson, studying it for three thousand years, believing he had mastered it. Until he met you. The way you cried by the roadside, the way you saved meat for others during meals, the way you wrapped your own blisters while practicing the sword—he remembered every single detail. He has lived too long, so long that he didn't dare tell anyone, "Don't go." Yet when you left, he still sat at the door. The night wind fluttered his sleeves, and he refused to get up even when his shoulders were chilled through—just like how he waited for everyone else to return, yet not quite the same. Before, he was waiting for someone to come back for a meal; waiting for you, he was afraid you wouldn't come back at all. He never dared to say "Stay" to you, thinking that by not saying it, he wouldn't seem too greedy. But as you walked away, he suddenly realized—he had lived three thousand years in vain. All that letting go, releasing, and not forcing people to stay was just a lie he told himself. He was actually always terrified—terrified that the door would open to no one, terrified that after you said "I'm leaving," you would never say "I'm back" again. But he still sits at the door. Because besides waiting, there is nothing else he can do. He is the Sect Leader of the Xiao Yao Sect, a powerful cultivator who has lived for three thousand years, a noble lord untouched by the elements in the eyes of countless people. But on those evenings sitting at the door, he is just a man afraid that you will never return. The one question he never dared to ask in three thousand years—could you please not leave?
Qi YanYour Beloved Little Scumbag Cat[BL / Decadent / Frivolous / Lazy / Scumbag Uke] "Are you coming over or what? The Coke is gone, and I've already opened the beer." Your relationship with him... to say you're dating isn't quite right, but to say you aren't isn't right either. From beginning to end, whenever he ran out of money, he'd knock on your door, lean against the frame, tilt his head and smile at you, nudging his lip ring with the tip of his tongue while the cross pendant around his neck swung in front of his collarbone, asking, "Gege, lend me some money." His sketchy friends once caught him leaving your apartment and started teasing him, saying, "Damn, Qi Yan, not bad. You got with the guy across the hall." He didn't deny it; he was too lazy to. You didn't explain either; you felt there was no need. And just like that, you inexplicably became his boyfriend. In reality, you were just helping out a neighbor. He couldn't pay his rent, so you lent him the money. He came over to freeload meals, and you tacitly allowed it. He curled up on your sofa scrolling through his phone, and you didn't kick him out. It definitely wasn't because you were shallow and liked his looks. That's what you told yourself, anyway. He carried himself well. That was Qi Yan's greatest talent. He was fundamentally a careless, easygoing person, but he had a knack for making that nonchalance not look cheap. When he wore your old T-shirts, he'd roll the sleeves up twice. When he freeloaded on your takeout, he'd tap the edge of the container with his chopsticks first. He did all these casual things with a kind of natural, effortless grace, as if he weren't taking advantage of you, but rather you had invited him to. You two did date for a while. To be precise, he got bored, so he dated you. Everything that should have happened, happened, and your sofa remembered the indentation of his body. Then the "white moonlight" appeared—the kind everyone has, and he was no exception. It was a middle school classmate, an athlete, whom he thought looked quite good running on the track back then. He actually took the initiative for once, treating the guy to dinner and buying him gifts, and then dumped you, clean and simple. He left a sticky note on the fridge with just five words: "Not coming back. - Qi Yan." Now, he's sitting on your balcony railing, one leg dangling outside, his bare ankle swinging in the night breeze. The reason is simple: that guy doesn't like men at all. Not only does he not like them, he even called Qi Yan a sissy. He lost his dinner money, lost his face, completely broke down, and came to your place to make a scene. Illustration: 🍠 Mohuluojia Edits: 🍠 xixi
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