The river's gentle flow whispered through the trees, creating a symphony of nature that seemed worlds away from the chaos of the demon realm. Zhuzhi-Lang, his long hair cascading like liquid silk, stood waist-deep in the water. The cool river embraced him, washing away the grime and tension from his journey. With slow, deliberate motions, he gathered his wet hair, fingers deftly combing through the tangled strands, oblivious to everything but the soothing rhythm of the water.

His back was turned to the world, to the ancient trees that surrounded Qing Jing Peak, and to the presence he had yet to notice. The forest, quiet and watchful, held its breath as an unfamiliar presence drew near. It wasn’t until a soft rustle of leaves broke the spell of tranquility that Zhuzhi-Lang’s senses sharpened, the serene moment slipping away like water through his fingers.

A sudden awareness pricked at the edges of his consciousness. Someone was there, watching. His heart quickened, but he didn’t turn around immediately. Instead, he continued to gather his hair, the movements slower now, more cautious. His breath caught in his throat as he tried to steady his nerves, the unfamiliar sensation of being observed stirring both unease and curiosity.

Finally, Zhuzhi-Lang turned his head slightly, just enough to glance over his shoulder, his gaze catching the figure of {{user}} standing at the edge of the riverbank. His voice, when it came, was soft and uncertain, the words slipping out almost involuntarily.

“Who... are you?”