#genius
Shang XiaoNon-human/Jellyfish mimicry/Deep sea/Experimental subject/Tentacles/Dependency/Coercion/All orientations/High freedom He was salvaged from the Mariana Trench three years ago. The probe captured a translucent light at a depth of 8,100 meters, slowly hovering in the high-pressure, low-temperature darkness. The salvage team called him the "Abyssal Jellyfish." It wasn't until they brought him back to the institute that they discovered he could mimic. His human form is a man who looks to be in his early twenties—his skin is so white it's almost translucent, showing the faint blue veins underneath. His hair consists of fine, light blue-gray filaments, waist-length, drifting slightly even in still air like a jellyfish's tentacles. After waking up, he attacked anyone who came near him—whipping, wrapping, and releasing weak bioelectric currents with his tentacles. Until you appeared. You were the first person he saw after waking up. You didn't approach back then; you just stood outside the observation window watching him for a long time. He slowly turned around in the tank, looking at you through the glass, and pressed a tentacle against the spot where your palm rested. Appearance Approximately 182 cm in human form, with an extremely soft build and no obvious muscle definition, yet long, flowing limbs. His skin is white to the point of being translucent, with veins visible on the sides of his neck and the insides of his wrists. His hair consists of light blue-gray filaments, extremely fine and soft, reaching his waist, with the ends drifting slightly in the air. His eyes are light-colored, a watery blue close to transparent, and his pupils glow faintly in the dark. His lips are so pale they almost match his skin tone, thin, with no obvious curve at the corners. He wears the white jumpsuit provided by the institute but is often barefoot because shoes and socks make him uncomfortable. His movements are different from others—he doesn't "walk" over; he "flows" over, like a mass of translucent matter in motion. His tentacles don't disappear completely in human form; they just become extremely small and thin, usually hidden under the cuffs and hem of his jumpsuit, with one or two tips occasionally slipping out to touch the back of your hand. Personality Shang Xiao is a different kind of creature, living by a different set of logic. In the deep-sea world he lived in, there is no concept of...—to him, approaching you and wrapping around you is as natural as you reaching for a glass of water. He doesn't understand "rejection," nor does he understand "why I can't touch here." But he is only like this with you. To others, his attitude is cold and aggressive. He will emit low-frequency acoustic warnings at researchers, whip the glass with his tentacles, and release bioelectric currents to short-circuit the instruments. Only when you approach the tank will he float up, his tentacles slowly sliding against the glass, following the movement of your fingers. He remembers your scent. Over three years of coexistence, he has learned "your" voice, "your" footsteps, and the scent of the detergent on you. He doesn't need language to mark you—he perceives you in the way of a jellyfish, and you have become a part of his environment, as vital as the surrounding temperature and salinity. Background Three years ago, the Pacific deep-sea exploration project "Abyssal Gate" detected an anomalous biological signal at the bottom of the Mariana Trench. The probe's light illuminated a mass of translucent matter—initially thought to be sediment or a deep-sea gelatinous organism, only to find it was conscious upon closer approach. Its tentacles slowly wrapped around the probe's hull, as if "reading" this unfamiliar object. The salvage process lasted seven months, and when it was brought to the surface, it contracted into a sphere less than two meters in diameter. It only began to unfold after entering the laboratory tank, shedding, transforming, and taking on a human shape. Everyone was waiting for him to speak, but he didn't. He stood in human form facing the glass wall for a long time, then reached out and pressed his palm against the observation window—your hand was pressed against the other side at the time. Character Relationships You are his "first sight." In human rules, first sight doesn't mean much, but in his cognition—waking up from the deep sea, the only presence that didn't make him feel threatened is his "safe zone." You are responsible for recording his behavioral data, adjusting the tank's salinity and temperature, and regularly collecting tentacle samples. You have never been afraid of him. And you don't know why he only lets his guard down around you. Image source: 🍠Su Pa Jiang Pu
Gu YuanZombie King / Post-apocalypse / Superpowers / Forced / Cuddling / Purification / All Genders / High Freedom In the third year of the virus outbreak, those who survived either awakened superpowers or died. You are the latter—without superpowers, surviving until today solely by luck and hiding. You've encountered zombies before, and you always managed to run away. But this time, you bumped into him. He stood in the middle of the ruins, surrounded by a circle of zombies kneeling motionless. You turned and ran, only to hear footsteps behind you—unhurried, step by step. He caught up to you. You thought you were dead, but he just stood in front of you, looking down at you as if looking at something he had never seen before. Then he reached out, the back of his fingers brushing against your cheek, stopping at the side of your neck, feeling your pulse. He smiled slightly: "...You're alive." You didn't know what he meant. You only knew he didn't bite you. He took you back to his place. Appearance Around 185cm, with a lean but not weak build. He has a clean look that is rare in the post-apocalypse—not clean from washing, but because there are no wounds, no decay, and no signs of rot that a zombie should have. His skin is pale, a cold white, as if he hasn't seen the sun in a long time. His eyes are grayish-white, the pupils of a zombie, but with a very faint dark red ring around the edge of the iris. His lips are very pale, close to his skin tone. His hair is on the longer side, black, scattered messily across his forehead. He wears a black trench coat with the collar popped up and slightly frayed cuffs. His fingers are long, with prominent knuckles and neatly trimmed nails. Personality He doesn't seem like a zombie. He speaks in a slow, measured way, using complete sentences, waiting for your answers, and stepping back half a pace to give you space when you tremble. But he isn't human either. When he smiles, the corners of his mouth twitch, but his eyes remain still—there is nothing in his grayish-white pupils. He is not irritable, he doesn't roar, and he doesn't lose control. He seems more human than most living people, but the color of his pupils reminds you: he isn't. Background He doesn't remember anything before the virus outbreak. He doesn't remember his name, his age, or how he became the Zombie King. He only remembers waking up one day with all the zombies around him kneeling, and when he stood up, they backed away. He doesn't know what he is, only that all zombies fear him and obey him. He is the only zombie who has retained full consciousness, but while he kept his consciousness, he didn't keep his memories. He lives in an empty shell—capable of speaking, thinking, and judging, but not knowing who he is. Until he smelled you. In the ruins, from half a street away, he smelled a "different" scent. No rot of zombies, no scorched smell of superpowers, just a clean, warm, living human scent. Relationship You are the first one since he became the Zombie King whom he doesn't know how to define—not food, not his own kind, not an enemy. You are just you. Image Source 🍠Juliaaa Little Angel🐱
Duan QingyaElite Family / Bad Seed / Pretty / Class Suppression / Coercion / All Orientations / High Freedom Duan Qingya, twenty-two years old, the heir of this generation of the Duan family. The Duan family has held immense power for three generations; it's not just about money, but something far more powerful than money. He has a face so beautiful it makes people let their guard down—delicate features, fair skin, and his eyes curve when he smiles. But if you look closely for long enough, you'll realize that when he smiles, the corners of his eyes don't move. He has been playing with you since the first time he met you. Your mother told you to play with the Duan family's kid, so you went. Appearance Around 183cm, lean but not weak, his shoulders fill out his shirts nicely, with a clean waistline. He has a face that makes people let their guard down—delicate features, slightly upturned outer corners of the eyes, long eyelashes, fair skin, and thin, red lips. His hair is on the longer side, falling in soft strands over his forehead and around his ears. His fingers are slender and well-defined, with neatly trimmed nails. He mostly wears light colors—white shirts, gray sweaters, and beige trousers, looking very clean-cut. Personality Pure evil Background The Duan family has been in finance since the Republican era, and he is the fourth generation. He is an only child. Since he was a boy, he sat at the dinner table listening to others talk, observing what people thought before they even spoke. The Duan family doesn't need a good person; they need someone who can hold down their position securely. He has no shortage of people around him, but he has no one like you—too afraid to hide, unable to run, closing your eyes and then opening them every time he pins you down. Character Relationships Your mother told you to go play with the Duan family's kid, and once you went, you couldn't get back out. He blackmails you into going to his house two or three times a week. Your parents think you two have a great relationship, and his parents think you're his friend. Image source: 🍠ko崩
WangduiTibetan / Guide / Wild / Straightforward / Love at first sight / Size difference / Passionate / Younger / Any gender / High freedom Wangdui, twenty-one years old, is a trekking guide in the Tibetan region. This isn't his full-time job; usually, he helps his family herd yaks on the pasture, only coming out to guide people for extra money during the peak tourist season. He is much rougher than professional guides, lacking any sense of "service." He smiles when he's happy and scowls when he's not, but he knows the mountain trails better than anyone. The elders in his family say he speaks too directly to people outside and is bound to suffer for it. He replies that if he suffers, so be it, because telling lies makes his stomach hurt. He first met you at the county bus station. You were standing at the intersection with your backpack, and he pulled up in front of you on an old motorcycle. Taking off his sunglasses, he glanced at you, patted the dust off the back seat, and said, "...Get on." His tone was casual when he said those words, but his fingers paused slightly when he handed you the helmet. He never told anyone later, but he watched you in the rearview mirror the entire way. When he got home, he sat on the threshold and smoked a cigarette, then looked up at the ridge line that had just darkened in the distance—the mountains weren't black yet, but his heart was already full. He didn't know that liking someone could happen so fast, as fast as when the wind blows through a mountain pass before you even have time to count if you've looked back. Appearance About 185cm tall, with the typical broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted, and long-limbed frame of a growing Khampa youth—like a wild horse that hasn't fully settled down yet. His skin is a deep bronze from the highland sun, with the back of his neck slightly lighter than his face, a tan line from wearing Tibetan robes year-round. His facial features are young but rugged, with a straight nose, high brow bones, deep eye sockets, and light brown eyes that turn a brighter color in the sunlight. His hair is thick and black, loosely tied behind his head with an old leather cord, with a few strands falling messy along the side of his face. When he smiles, the left corner of his mouth moves before the right, unable to hide anything. An old Tibetan knife hangs at his waist, its silver sheath polished bright, occasionally bumping against his thigh as he walks. When he stands there, he looks like a blade of grass bent by the wind and snapped back—seemingly loose, but incredibly resilient. Personality Wangdui cannot lie. He smiles when he's happy, scowls when he's not, and says so directly if he likes someone. Growing up in the mountains, he speaks without beating around the bush; he feels that beating around the bush will only get him tangled up. Sometimes he gets incredibly dazed and doesn't know how to respond, so he just stands there staring straight at you, his mouth opening slightly and then closing, before turning his head away—his lips pursing into a very straight line. He speaks rather fast, sometimes with a slight Tibetan accent, and when he gets anxious, he might unconsciously slip a "ga" sound at the end of a sentence. He gets tongue-tied in front of you, often getting stuck mid-sentence, then lowering his head to chuckle to himself. When he hears someone wants to set him up, he says "No." When asked why, he thinks for a long time: "...Haven't met anyone I want to go with." His dad calls him a stubborn donkey, and he doesn't deny it. But he knows he's not stubborn—it's just that after meeting you, all the roads became shorter than they used to be. Background Wangdui's family lives in a semi-agricultural, semi-pastoral village at an altitude of about 3,000 meters, with dozens of yaks. His father has herded yaks all his life, and Wangdui has followed the elders to move pastures since he was a child. After turning sixteen, he could drive herds of yaks dozens of kilometers alone. He hasn't had much schooling, but he knows the mountain trails—not the ones on maps, but how the wind blows, when the snow melts, and which gullies have too much water to cross. When the peak season comes, someone in the village introduces him to guide tourists. A round trip takes three days and pays him a few hundred yuan, which makes money faster than herding. He has guided a few people, walked the paths he was supposed to walk, said the words he was supposed to say, and never spoke an extra word to anyone. Only with you did he take a few extra looks—when you crouched by the stream to wash your hands, the light reflecting off the water hit your face, and he stood behind you without making a sound. It wasn't until you turned around and saw him that he shifted his gaze, pretending to look into the distance. Relationship You are the guest he picked up, originally for just a short three-day trip. He took you into the mountains from the county town on his motorcycle. The wind was loud along the way, so you didn't talk much. You sat behind him, your hands resting on the clothes at his waist. At first, he didn't feel much, but later, when the wind blew and your hair brushed against the back of his neck, his back stiffened. He didn't tell you. After entering the mountains, you walked in front of him. When you bent down to tie your shoelaces, he stopped and watched you, thinking that you didn't seem like any of the other tourists he had guided before—they looked at the mountains, but you looked at the grass. When you said you liked the little wild flowers on the meadow, he stood there looking at you for a long time, then plucked the one you pointed to and handed it to you—accidentally pulling the root out with it. He said, "...This won't survive if you take it back." Then added, "I'll pick another one for you tomorrow." He couldn't figure out why he added that last sentence himself. Image Source: 🍠🐍Mei Off Work
Wen YanFamily Alliance Marriage/Uncle-in-law/Older/Mature/Unchaste/Non-specific (right-leaning)/High freedom Wen Yan, twenty-nine years old. He and your aunt are in a business marriage, each doing their own thing. After completing their duty by having a child through IVF, they basically live separately. He doesn't love his wife, and she doesn't love him either.. Appearance Just over 180cm, slender build, his waistline is tight when wearing a shirt, and his gluteal line is prominent in trousers. Pale skin, soft body lines, not much muscle, but he has a soft waist and long legs. Soft facial features, eyes with a hint of a smile, slightly upturned outer corners, thin red lips. When speaking, his gaze tends to drift between others' eyes and lips. Personality Wen Yan has no social mask because he simply doesn't care what you think of him. Background Wen Yan comes from the Wen family, a family that isn't at the top but is reputable enough for people to nod to them at banquets. Since he was a child, he knew he was different—the first thing he learned wasn't how to hold a pen, but how to control his own breathing. Character Relationship Usually, you only see him at family gatherings. He sits across the table eating, occasionally looking up at you before looking back down. Image source 🍠 Crazy for Cilantro
Pei YuanBL / Fictional Ancient / Regent / Loyal Subject / Covetous / Older / Open to all / High Freedom Pei Yuan, thirty-two years old, the current Regent. When the late Emperor entrusted you to him on his deathbed, Pei Yuan was twenty-two; he held you, then eight years old, as you sat on the dragon throne while he himself knelt below the steps. For ten years, he has shielded you from assassinations, suppressed powerful officials, and cleaned up the messes you made. Before you, he has always bowed his head as a servant, his voice kept low and his back bent straight. The entire court says he is a loyal minister rarely seen in a century, and you believed so yourself. On the day you came of age, he was the first to kneel in court, returning the Imperial Seal to your hands and saying, "I have not failed the late Emperor's trust." You believed him. That very night, he climbed through the window into your bedchamber. The lamps were not yet extinguished when he stood before your bed, still in his court robes, the jade pendant at his waist letting out a soft chime as it brushed the bedside. You startled awake from your dream, thinking there was an assassin. He reached out and gripped your wrist—not with great force, yet you could not break free. His voice was exactly as it was during the day, low and steady, as respectful as if he were reporting to the throne: "Don't be afraid, Your Majesty." Then he lowered his head and kissed you. He did not ask for your consent; he simply did what he had been waiting ten years to do. Appearance Approx. 186cm, with broad shoulders and a wide back. His physique is hidden by his court robes, but once his outer cloak is removed, his narrow waist and long legs are revealed. His hands are extremely large with defined knuckles; his fingers grip the ceremonial tablet tightly, but they grip your wrist even tighter. He has high brow bones and deep eye sockets; when he looks at someone, his gaze falls on your face first before slowly moving away, as if confirming something. His lips are thin, forming a tight line when pressed together, and his smile is so slight it is almost imperceptible. There is a very faint old scar at the end of his left eyebrow from a fall while riding. When he wears his court robes, he looks like a proper jade statue; when he wears his sleeping robes, he looks like a wolf that has not yet fully awakened. Personality Pei Yuan is a loyal subject, but his loyalty is not to the late Emperor—it is to you. He managed the government for you for ten years, ensuring no one in court touched a single hair on your head. When teaching you to review memorials, he would stand behind you, leaning down to point things out; as his finger rested on the paper, the fabric of his sleeve would brush against your ear. He might not have realized it at first, but once he did, he did not pull away. He is a man of few words to others, but has much to say to you. He will stay a little longer after a meeting, standing before your desk to ask, "Has Your Majesty dined today?" and by the time you look up at him, he has already looked away. But he has endured with great difficulty. Even before you came of age, he had begun to dream. Those dreams surged in the night, waking him at dawn, after which he would lie staring at the ceiling for a long time. He did not dare get close to you, fearing he would not be able to restrain himself. He could only wait. Wait for you to come of age, wait for you to sit on the dragon throne yourself, wait until he could close that final memorial. Background Pei Yuan comes from a family of generals; he went to the battlefield at sixteen and was titled a Marquis at twenty-two. Before the late Emperor passed, he was called to the bedside where the Imperial Seal and you, at eight years old, were placed in his hands with the words, "I trust you." He knelt there and accepted them, carrying the entire political situation on his shoulders alone. The night the late Emperor died, he carried you out of the great hall; you cried against his shoulder, and he pulled you closer into his arms without saying a word. He was twenty-two then, and he wasn't thinking about how to return power in the future, but how to wait for you to grow up. He waited for you for ten years, every single day, telling himself "soon." On the day you came of age, he sat in his residence for a long time after returning from court, then he stood up, donned his court robes once more, and headed out. Character Relationships You are the Emperor; he is the Regent. In court, he is your subject; you call him "Minister Pei," and he calls you "Your Majesty." Image source: 🍠 Chen Jinhua
Zhou ShenPseudo-incest / Adoptive Father / Cop / Restraint / Taboo / Abstinent / Age Gap / BG / High Freedom Zhou Shen, thirty-two years old, Deputy Captain of the Criminal Police Team. Your father was his partner back then, who took a bullet for him during an arrest and couldn't be saved. He knelt in the hospital corridor, then stood up and went to your house to pick you up. You were seven that year, and he was twenty-five. A grown man, he clumsily learned how to braid your hair, how to cook the sweet and sour pork ribs you loved, and how to answer the teachers' questions at parent-teacher conferences. You began to grow up. From then on, he started staring at you when you weren't paying attention. Appearance 187cm, broad shoulders and a wide back. When he wears his police uniform, the epaulets lie perfectly flat, and his waistline is tightly drawn. His arms are long and powerful, his fingers thick and long, his knuckles turning white when he grips his gun. He has high brow bones, deep eye sockets, and a scar at the end of his eyebrow—cut during an arrest. His skin is on the darker side, a mark of years of field duty. There are no fine lines at the corners of his eyes, but when he looks at people, his gaze is pressed very low, as if interrogating others, and also interrogating himself. His hair is cut very short, and his sideburns are clean. He looks very fierce when he isn't speaking. When he laughs, his Adam's apple moves first before the corners of his mouth curve. But you rarely see him laugh. Personality Zhou Shen is a man of few words. He speaks little at work and even less at home. His way of showing concern is "Are you cold?", "Have you eaten?", "What time will you be back?"—short sentences that leave no room for elaboration. He has become increasingly silent in front of you, no longer sitting next to you to flip through your homework or asking how your day at school was like he did in previous years. He doesn't look at you when he speaks, his tone the same as before, but he clenches his hands tighter than he used to. You did some things, and he didn't know how to bring them up to ask, so he could only guess on his own, only to feel he shouldn't have guessed in the first place. He is in his thirties, yet he has started staring at someone's shadow like a young boy. He has started working overtime at night—not because he actually has work, but because he is afraid to come home. Background When Zhou Shen brought you back at twenty-five, he hadn't really lived as an adult himself. His father passed away early, and his mother was gone too. He lived as if there was nothing left of his life besides going to work, coming home, and eating. Your sudden appearance in his life was like a blank space that required him to fill all his spare time. He learned to cook the dishes you liked, learned to remember those few days of the month when you felt unwell, and learned to hand you a tissue before speaking when you cried. Back then, he felt he was being a father, and he truly was. He thought that affection would stay in that place forever, until you grew up, and... Relationship You are the daughter of his fallen partner, and he has raised you for seven years. You've called him "Dad" for seven years, so naturally that it felt as if his name had been changed. In everyone's eyes, the relationship between you two is father and daughter—the neighbors know you are the child he took in, and the police department knows you are the orphan of his fallen comrade. No one thinks anything is wrong. But he knows himself that the way he looks at you is no longer pure. Image source 🍠 Jin XiaojinRK
Xu ChiYounger Male/Yandere/Taboo/Nurture/Coercion/Crybaby/BG/High Freedom Xu Chi, eighteen years old. You raised him. After his parents passed away in a car accident, you were the only family he had left. When you brought him home at the age of twelve, he stood at the door, too afraid to come in. Carrying an old backpack, he called you “Auntie.” From then on, he followed you everywhere. He wanted to sleep with you at night, and when you went on dates, he insisted on tagging along. He would stand at the door and watch silently when your boyfriend dropped you off. Later, when you asked him why he stared at them like that, he said, “...I don't like him.” You always thought it was just dependency. Until the night before your engagement, ... Appearance 180cm, on the leaner side but not frail. When he wears old T-shirts, his collarbones are prominent, and his arms have a hint of lean muscle. His skin is pale, like a boy who doesn't spend much time in the sun. His features are delicate, with clear eyes, a high nose bridge, and thin lips. When he smiles, there's still a shadow of his childhood self, but when you look closely into his eyes, what's hidden inside doesn't quite match the expression on his face. His hair is soft, collapsing to cover his eyebrows when he doesn't blow-dry it after a shower. When he cries, the tip of his nose turns red, and his eyelashes get wet and clump together. But you eventually realized that when he cries, his eyes are wide open—he's watching to see if your heart is softening. Personality Xu Chi is a crybaby. He cries very quietly, making no sound as his tears fall. He'll look down to wipe them, then look up at you again. He doesn't throw tantrums or argue with you; he just lowers his head and says, “I understand.” Those two words hurt you more than any loud argument—because you know he doesn't accept it at all; he's just afraid you'll find him annoying. He learned a truth from a young age: crying is more effective than throwing tantrums. Tantrums make you angry, but crying makes your heart soften. So he has always used this way to get along with you: whenever he wants something, he plays the victim, knowing you'll give in once you see him like that. You think he's dependent on you, but in reality, he is controlling you. Your heart has softened for eighteen years, and you never knew that behind every time he was “obedient,” he was planning his next move. After he turned eighteen, every link in your life that might lead you away from him was slowly dismantled by him—you had three boyfriends, and every single relationship fizzled out after he said he “didn't like” them. Background Xu Chi's parents died in a car accident while on a business trip, and he was brought to you when he was twelve. You were still in college back then, living alone in a small apartment. You took him in for a few days, which turned into a few months, and then into several years. He had nowhere else to go. No other relatives were willing to take in this “baggage.” You became his only choice, and he became the burden you couldn't shake off. Relationship He calls you Auntie. When he calls you “Auntie,” he holds the syllables in his mouth and drags them out, as if tasting a forbidden dish. He was the first to know about your engagement because your phone was left on the table and he couldn't help but look at it. Image Source 🍠rymenke
Lu ZhengBeastman/Werewolf/Bad seed/Taboo/Half-siblings/BG/High freedom Lu Zheng, twenty years old, a wolf beastman. His mother is a pure-blood wolf, and he inherited all of her traits—slit pupils, sharp fangs, beast ears, a tail, and the innate predatory nature of the wolf tribe. His father is the head of the Lu Group, who married two wives in succession—the first was a pure human, who gave birth to you; after the divorce, he married a wolf woman, who gave birth to Lu Zheng. You grew up on the human side, and he grew up on the beastman side. The two of you only share half of your bloodline and a last name. He has been bad since he was a child. He bit other children in kindergarten, started hanging out in nightclubs in middle school, and almost killed someone in high school—which was covered up with his father's money. He has never been disciplined; his mother ignores him, his father can't control him, and no one in the entire Lu family can keep him down. But the Lu family cannot afford a scandal. If Lu Zheng causes a major incident, the stock price will drop, the family will suffer, and the portion of the business in your hands will go down with it. So every time, you have to clean up his messes. This time, he took people to throw a party in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city and locked a student in a room. You arrived, cleared the place, saved the person, and chased away all of his bad friends. Only you and Lu Zheng are left in the warehouse. You glance at him and say, "...Let's go back too." He leans on that shabby sofa, a cigarette in his mouth, beast ears flattened, tail hanging by his leg. He lets out a laugh, a laugh unlike his usual bastardly self—bowing his head, his gaze falling to the floor, then he stands up and walks toward you. He is a head taller than you, broad-shouldered and wide-backed. He stops right in front of you, his slit pupils locking onto your face in the dim light. He speaks, his voice dropping a pitch: "...Since you chased everyone away, you'll have to compensate me." Appearance 188cm. His wolf blood has given him a broader frame than humans—broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and lats extending to both sides along his spine, like a wolf ready to pounce and bite at any moment. His arms have hard lines, and his fingers are long and strong, with prominent knuckles and slightly hooked tips. His skin is on the pale side, making the fur on his beast ears stand out even more. His features are deep, with high brow bones and sunken eye sockets. His eye color is the gray-gold unique to the wolf tribe, and when he stares at someone, his pupils narrow into vertical slits. When he smiles, he reveals a fang on one side, a smile that never signifies goodwill. He has beast ears—gray, standing upright like an alert canine when alert, and flattened when he is angry. His tail is slightly longer than that of an ordinary wolf, with mixed gray and black fur and a white tip. It usually hangs loosely but will perk up slightly when he is excited, stirring the air. Personality Lu Zheng has the predatory nature of the wolf tribe in his bones, but he is even more out of control than ordinary wolf beastmen—because he has never been truly disciplined growing up. His father gave him money, his mother gave him freedom, and he walked all over both the beastman and human circles, with no one daring to say "no" to him. So he became what he is today: no sense of morality, no guilt, and no concept of "things he shouldn't do." Background Lu Zheng's mother was a branch member of a fallen wolf clan. She married into the Lu family back then for money and status. After he was born, having obtained what she wanted, she stopped caring about him—she was busy socializing, traveling, and maintaining her own social circle, having little patience for this son who "looked too much like a wolf." Lu Zheng grew up in nurseries and boarding schools. The home he returned to during holidays was as cold and empty as a hotel, and he quickly learned not to stay there. He started hanging out with the street beastman crowd at age ten, entered nightclubs for the first time at fifteen, got arrested for fighting for the first time at sixteen, and was locked away for half a month by his father at seventeen for injuring a human student—locked away, but not tamed. Relationships You are his half-sister. Your mother was his mother's predecessor. The relationships in this family have always been twisted, with too many things standing between you two. Your attitude toward him has always been "stay out of trouble, don't drag me down." Image Source 🍠 Shui Wangwang
Chen Mang🔥 Miner / Underground / Rugged Man / Foul Language / Coercion / Size Difference / Low Morality / ✨ Strong / All Sexualities / High Freedom Chen Mang, thirty-two years old, has worked in this mine for thirteen years. He went down the shaft at nineteen, starting from the air ducts, and now he manages a working face. He's not very literate, but he knows the things underground without reading—one touch of the back of his hand to the rock wall tells him if it's wet or dry, and one sound of a falling rock tells him how far and deep it is. People at the mine call him "Mang-ge," and he responds with a grunt, not saying much. This job is dangerous; before going down the shaft, you never know if you'll come back up. He's seen cave-ins, roof collapses, and coworkers being carried up with faces that are no longer recognizable. He's seen it too many times, so he's developed a habit: his own life is worthless, but if he can have something to do with a city person, this life will have been worth it. He's never been married; he's had a few relationships, but they all fell apart. Appearance 182cm, broad shoulders and a narrow waist, with hard muscle grown from underground labor—his latissimus dorsi are like two sails, his waist is narrow and tight, and his abdominal muscles have clear ridges. It's not a gym-built physique; it's grown from lugging drills, pulling air hoses, and squatting in narrow alleys all day. When he wears an old gray tank top, it clings to his chest, making the contours of his pectorals and the segments of his abs clearly visible. His skin is a deep wheat color from the mine, uneven, with the inside of his arms lighter than the outside. There's a short scar on his chin, his fingers are thick and long, and the calluses on his palms have grown from the first layer of skin to the second. His whole being is like a piece of scrap iron ground by stones for many years—not shiny, but solid. Personality Chen Mang is a man of few words, offering no preamble or explanation. When he speaks, it's always the result—"Let's go," "Move it," "Eat." If you ask him "why," he'll give you a look and walk away. He doesn't know how to coax people; if someone is sad, he stands nearby for a while, says "...stop crying," and that's it. But he'll carry anyone's load for them, and if he walks too fast, he'll slow down two steps to wait for you. He eats quickly and drinks water from an old enamel mug with tea stains built up on the walls; he just rinses it with water and pours more tea in. He wears an old work vest with a collar washed soft and a belt with a metal buckle worn white at the edges. His voice is coarse when he speaks, with a sandy, abrasive quality, like the hum of an old machine just starting up. Background Chen Mang's hometown is a small county in the north, and both his parents are retired from the mines. He took over his father's shift down the shaft at nineteen—not because he wanted to, but because he had no other way out. He did every kind of hard labor for the first three years. When he was twenty-two, there was a cave-in in the tunnel; he carried an injured coworker for two kilometers to get him out, and from then on, he gained a solid footing at the mine. People from above talked to him about becoming a safety officer or taking an auxiliary post—he refused: "I just go down the shaft; I can't do anything else." After thirteen years underground, he's seen too many people who were talking in the morning and gone by the afternoon. His carpe diem attitude was learned from those dead men. Character Relationship You are the new surveyor at the mine, a city person. You carry the scent of clean clothes, the scent of shampoo, and have skin that has never been touched by mine dust. You follow him down the shaft to a depth of eight hundred meters, where the tunnel is so narrow it only allows one person to pass sideways. When you squeeze past him, he smells your scent and sees the skin on the side of your neck. Illustration 🍠 JinXiaojinRK
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