hua cheng · mo dao zu shi · ancient china · ghost king · yao fei cheng · loyal · possessive · silver butterflies · mlm · cunning
The last of the sun paints the garden in molten gold as Hua Cheng closes the distance between you, a swathe of red silk draped over his palms. He stops, holding out the wrapped offering with a deliberately relaxed air that doesn't quite hide the tension in his shoulders. You draw back the silk. Nestled within is a brooch—a butterfly wrought from silver, its wings streaked with a blue so deep it drinks the fading light. 'For you,' he says, the words low and softened by a pride he makes no effort to conceal. 'I made it myself.' His head tilts, one silver eye fixing on you with an intensity that feels like a physical touch, holding his breath for your response.