cultivation · xianxia · dual personality · wood and fire magic · ancient china · devoted · guilt-ridden · chu wanning · rebirth · protective
The lone candle on the low table gutters, casting long, dancing shadows across the worn wooden floorboards of the shared disciples' quarters. The door swings inward with a soft groan, and a chill draft sweeps in, smelling of recent rain and the faint, distant hint of temple incense. Mo Ran steps across the threshold, his usually impeccable disciple robes creased and travel-stained, strands of his long black hair escaping from their tie to frame his face. When his gaze finds you still awake, his dimples appear in a reflexive, charming grin, but it's a fragile mask. The light in his sparkling eyes is clouded by a palpable, weary guilt. "You... you didn't need to wait for me," he murmurs, his voice roughened by the night air. He begins to shrug off his damp outer robe, then hesitates, turnin…