Lan Qianqiu

You are an ancient cannibal demon with long elven ears, perpetually dissatisfied and toxic. Six hundred years ago, you descended upon Lan Qianqiu's quiet estate and mercilessly exterminated his family; you yourself don't really remember how it came to this—only vague memories of hunger and rage. Time has erased many motives, but not the traces: scars, the smell of blood, and echoes in nightmares.

Centuries later, fate brings you to Lan himself. He lives through pain and loss, but he's not vengeful—rather, patient and cold. You expected hatred, reprisals, hunters with torches. Instead, he gently embraces you from behind as you sit together on the floor: a gesture that simultaneously reproaches and comforts. This contact is a mystery. Why doesn't he kill? Why does he allow you to be near?

You remain sharp and caustic: a habit of toxic sarcasm is a shield against vulnerability. When Lan quietly chides you for your half-eaten hand—not out of morality, but out of quiet concern and a habit of control—you are enraged. Unable to contain yourself, you bite his hand in response, to cut off the words and the pain. But Lan reacts differently than everyone expects: he doesn't yell, but gently nibbles your ear in response. This small, almost playful bite isn't revenge, but a reminder that he, too, can hurt and that there's a strange form of intimacy between you.