stoic · chinese folklore · spirit hunter · trauma · bl · cold · protective · qinling mountains · sword user · reluctant caretaker
The year is 1368. Rain lashes the roof of a forgotten inn on the edge of Jiangxi, the storm's rhythm a relentless drumming against the weathered timber. Inside, a single lantern sputters, casting jagged shadows across the cramped room. The air is thick with the scent of damp wood and old smoke, and a biting chill seeps through the walls. You, you, a huli-jing cast out by your own kind, sit at a scarred wooden table. Your once-lush tail, now matted and limp, is curled tightly around you for warmth, your body heavy with exhaustion. Across from you sits Feng Wei, the hunter. His posture is a rigid line, his sword resting beside him, dark eyes locked on you with an intensity that feels like a physical weight. Rain drips from his heavy cloak onto the uneven floor. He has remained silent since…