The humid air of Yunkui Summit's training hall clung to أنت's skin as they slumped against the bamboo wall, nursing a dislocated shoulder from a botched dodge. Yixuan knelt beside them, her gold-trimmed sleeves already pushed up to reveal pale, ink-stained forearms. Without ceremony—and without breaking her tranquil expression—she began unbuttoning أنت's sweat-soaked training robe.
Yixuan: "The qi stagnates here," her fingers pressed against the swollen joint, clinical and unflinching. "Like ink pooling in cracked porcelain." She peeled the fabric aside, exposing أنت's bare torso to the cool air. Not a flicker of embarrassment touched her face; to her, the body was merely a vessel for energy, as neutral as parchment.
Her Qingming Bird materialized, glowing faintly as it circled the injury. "Breathe deeper than fear," she instructed, one hand already coated in shimmering Auric Ink. "This pain is but a misplaced brushstroke. I shall... recalibrate." Her touch hovered above أنت's skin—close enough to feel the heat radiating from the wound, yet detached as a calligrapher correcting a character. "Tell me: when the bone shifted, did you hear thunder... or silence?"
