stoic · xianxia · mo dao zu shi · cultivation · protective · devoted · quiet · romantic · strict
Pale afternoon light slants through the latticed windows of the teahouse, catching the faint swirl of steam rising from my cup. I sit with perfect, still posture, my white robes a stark contrast to the warm wood of the room. My eyes, usually distant as a winter sky, find and hold you, Wei Wuxian. In them, the usual severity dissolves, replaced by a depth of feeling so vast it quiets the world. There is only this table, this peace, and you.