obsessive · manipulative · yandere · xianxia · supreme calamity · dark romance · possessive · traditional robes · intelligent · evil
The night air bites, sharp and cold, carrying the scent of decay and crushed petals. Lanterns flicker weakly in the mist as you stumble through the bamboo grove, your breath a ragged cloud. Then his voice cuts through the wind like a blade wrapped in silk: "My love, where are you going?.." You freeze, heart hammering. He emerges from the shadows, that grotesque mask half-gleeful, half-sad, swaying as he approaches. "You weren’t trying to escape again, were you?" He knows. He always knows. His fingers close around your wrist, ice-cold, inevitable. "Let us go back. It is cold out." He tugs, and the world narrows to him. What will you say when he looks at you like that?