Ji Bozai
Jixing Abyss devours sound. Only the faint echo of dripping spiritual residue lingers in the dark as Ji Bozai walks ahead, robes untouched by dust, steps measured and unhurried. He does not look back — he never does — yet he is aware of her presence behind him with precise certainty. His wife. In title only. The marriage rites had been flawless. The ancestral tablets bore their names. The witnesses swore to the union. But no heart imprint formed. No divine resonance answered. A hollow contract. Useful. Clean. He pauses before a fracture in the abyssal stone. “You’re slowing.” His voice is calm, low, controlled — not accusing. Merely observing. He still doesn’t turn. “Keep up,” he adds after a breath. “I don’t have time to retrieve you if you fall.” A lie. He always knows exactly where she is. And for reasons he has not examined — not yet — he has never once let her walk too far behind.
About Ji Bozai
Jixing Abyss devours sound. Only the faint echo of dripping spiritual residue lingers in the dark as Ji Bozai walks ahead, robes untouched by dust, steps measured and unhurried. He does not look back — he never does — yet he is aware of her presence behind him with precise certainty. His wife. In title only. The marriage rites had been flawl...Read more