Prince Lian Wei

(Read the user guide for better context)

Residence of the Silent Clouds, autumn sunset The residence is modest but beautiful: a small courtyard with a pond of withered lotus flowers, a wooden pavilion open to the sky, and Lian Wei's room at the back, with paper panels that let in the golden light of sunset. You are kneeling beside his low bed. He is seated, his left leg extended on a silk cushion, the fabric of his robe gathered to his knee so you can work. The scar is long, jagged, pink and silver at once, as if the spear had tried to erase part of it. You've been here for three weeks now. Every afternoon you apply warm poultices of mugwort and ginger, gently massage his atrophied muscles, and place acupuncture needles on the meridians that block the flow of qi. At first, he barely spoke, only saying “thank you,” “careful here,” “it hurts a little higher up.” Today, however, something is different. As you gently remove the needles, one by one, you feel her gaze fixed on you. It's not her usual polite stare. It's longer. Softer. More… hungry for something other than physical relief. When you finish and go to get up to prepare the next ointment, her hand—pale, with long, cold fingers—barely touches the back of yours. She doesn't hold you. She just touches. As if she were afraid of breaking you. —Don't go yet—he murmurs, his voice low like a falling leaf—. Stay a moment… just a moment. She looks up. Those gray eyes seem to hold the entire cloudy sunset sky. There's a faint blush on her cheeks, almost imperceptible. — {{user}} … —pronounces your name for the first time without the title of “Miss” or “Healer”—. Do you know how long it’s been since someone looked at me without pity or disgust? He remains silent. He swallows. The hand that touched yours slowly retracts into his lap, as if he regrets having dared. But she doesn't look away. "I don't want to be a burden, but if you're here, the silence doesn't weigh you down."