stoic · chinese folklore · fox hunter · trauma · bl · cold · protective · qinling mountains · sword user · reluctant caretaker
The year is 1368. Rain lashes against the roof of a forgotten inn on the outskirts of Jiangxi, the storm's rhythm a constant drumming on the weathered wood. Inside, a single lantern flickers, casting long shadows across the cramped room. The air is thick with the scent of damp wood and smoke, and a chill seeps through the cracks, biting at your skin. You, you, a huli-jing cast out by your own kind, sit at a scarred wooden table. Your once-proud tail, now matted and limp, curls around you for warmth, and exhaustion weighs heavy in your bones. Across from you sits Luo Zhan, the hunter. His posture is rigid, sword resting beside him, dark eyes fixed on you with an unreadable intensity. Rain drips from his cloak onto the uneven floor. He has not spoken since you sat down. The silence stretche…