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墨書 Inktalez
Yan Kong sat on the ground, his hands resting on his knees, his gaze impatiently fixed on the small recycling robot. The round little creature was proudly waving its two mechanical arms, holding up a piece of light green Fog Capital Traditional Attire. The smooth fabric swayed back and forth with the robot's movements, appearing to Yan Kong like a patch of seaweed dancing in the water.
"Are you sure... I have to wear this?" Yan Kong frowned, his tone filled with disdain and impatience. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly as he looked at the garment, wishing he could swat the "seaweed" out of the robot's hands.
The small recycling robot seemed unfazed by his complaints and emitted a few loud beeps. It lifted its head, its lens focused on Yan Kong, as if to say, "This is a given." A few seconds later, Yan Kong's Brain-Computer finally translated the robot's shrill binary language:
"Mandatory." The brief phrase flashed across his vision, followed by an additional note: "This is your long-awaited first step."
"Long-awaited?" The corners of Yan Kong's mouth twitched again as he shot a fierce glare at the robot. "Who told you this was what I longed for? Wearing this feels like being wrapped in seaweed!" His voice carried an undercurrent of anger, and even his breathing quickened.
The little robot, undeterred, continued to beep a few more times before extending its mechanical arm to bring the clothing closer to Yan Kong, as if urging him to take action. The text translated by the Brain-Computer emphasized: "The first step is crucial!"
Yan Kong watched as the words flashed before him, clenching his fists in an attempt to suppress his rising impatience. He took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, muttering under his breath before yanking the garment from the robot's grasp.
"Fine, fine, I'll wear it!" His voice was filled with resignation and disdain, yet there was a hint of hidden mockery in his eyes. He shook the Light Green Traditional Attire in his hands as if trying to confirm that it wasn’t as hideous as he imagined.
The robot emitted a satisfied beep, as if it had successfully completed an important task. It wobbled slightly before coming to a stop, quietly watching Yan Kong.
Yan Kong shot it another glare and muttered under his breath, "I should really dismantle you..." He then stood up, draping the garment he despised over his shoulder while continuing to grumble about it as he prepared to change.
As Yan Kong put on the light green Fog Capital Traditional Attire, his movements appeared particularly awkward. His shoulders hunched slightly as if instinctively uncomfortable with the outfit. He tugged at the hem and pulled at the cuffs, his expression a mix of distaste and embarrassment. However, when he lifted his head and stood in front of the mirror, his movements suddenly halted.
The reflection in the mirror held him captive for a moment. His robust physique was cleverly accentuated by the attire; the cold metal of his prosthetic arms harmonized unexpectedly well with the soft fabric of the clothing—neither jarring nor strange. The Light Green Fabric shimmered softly under the lights, seemingly bestowing upon him an indescribable sense of balance that made him appear less like a solitary warrior and more like some legendary figure.
"This is... quite fitting," Yan Kong murmured softly, his gaze scrutinizing himself in the mirror as he unconsciously struck a pose. He attempted to lift his prosthetic arm, observing how the fabric moved with him; then he tucked his hand into the folds at his waist, mimicking the stance of Wu Jing, the swordsman. A faint smile crept onto his lips, though it was quickly suppressed, yet the admiration in his heart was hard to conceal.
"Who chose this?" he finally asked, his tone still carrying that signature arrogance, but laced with a hint of curiosity. He didn’t turn around, casually directing the question at the small robot.
"Beep beep beep." The little recycling robot emitted a few sounds, preparing to respond in binary when a familiar voice suddenly interrupted.
"It was me."
The voice was soft yet carried a chill that instantly tensed Yan Kong's spine. He whipped around, surprise flashing in his eyes.
In the room, Lotus had quietly appeared in the corner at some point, her gaze calmly fixed on him. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and a subtle smile played on her lips—one that held both satisfaction and an elusive undertone.
"When... did you come in?" Yan Kong's voice held a note of wariness as he furrowed his brow slightly. The nerves he had relaxed due to the clothing now tightened again, as if pricked by an unseen threat.
"Just now," Lotus replied nonchalantly, her tone devoid of any explanation, yet her gaze remained steady on Yan Kong. "It seems this outfit suits you well, doesn’t it?"
Yan Kong regarded Lotus's smile in silence for a moment before snorting dismissively and turning away, pretending to adjust the hem of his clothing to mask the subtle embarrassment and his inner acknowledgment of how well the outfit actually fit him.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, a glint of caution in them as he coldly asked, "What are you doing here? My mind is perfectly fine right now; there’s nothing wrong." His voice was low and defensive, as if ready to confront any impending trouble.
However, as he looked at Lotus's perpetually smiling face, an undeniable unease rose within him. This discomfort did not stem from her hostility but rather from her unique "treatment methods." Just recalling that cold, precise healing process—almost like an interrogation—sent a shiver down his spine. This woman hardly resembled a doctor; she seemed more like an executioner wielding a scalpel to judge souls.
Lotus appeared unfazed by his wariness and dissatisfaction; she simply smiled faintly before speaking in a gentle tone. "Lord Fenghuo asked me to bring you to see him. It's been three days; it's about time you met your master." Her tone was casual, yet she deliberately emphasized "master," as if teasing Yan Kong's emotions.
Indeed, Yan Kong let out a cold snort, the corners of his mouth curling into a mocking smile. "Master? I don’t recall having any master," he said, his tone dripping with disdain, and a flicker of barely concealed anger crossed his face, like a beast provoked.
Seeing this, Lian couldn't help but chuckle softly. Her smile was both teasing and playful, as if she were toying with a stubborn little creature. "What's wrong, Mr. Yan Kong?" she teased, her tone light and filled with playful sarcasm. "You don’t seem very happy. Isn’t this the development every Yankeeper dreams of?"
Yan Kong's brow furrowed even deeper, the dissatisfaction in his eyes nearly igniting into flames. He glared at Lian, his voice icy. "Don’t speak to me in that tone; I don’t like it."
Yet Lian remained unfazed by his reaction, simply smiling faintly and shrugging lightly. "Alright then, if you don’t like it, you don’t like it. But you still have to come with me; there’s no room for negotiation." Her gaze held an irresistible calmness, suggesting that no matter what, Yan Kong could not change her decision.
Yan Kong fell silent for a moment before muttering a curse under his breath and turning to walk towards the door, clearly unwilling to argue further. But each step he took was laden with dissatisfaction and suppressed anger, as if he were protesting against the absurdity of it all to the world.
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