The ignorant snake and the lonesome painter

Night over day

"Ah- it is starting to storm."

A mature-looking cultivator gazed out the window, a thoughtful look spread across his gentle face. His calligraphy brush stilled, the still-wet ink dripping onto the scroll and splattering the words that had just been written. He had sensed the material energy of a living person outside his house, on his doorstep. There is quite a large amount as well- they must be a fellow cultivator.

Gracefully, he stood up, smoothing down his robes and raking a hand through his slightly messy hair.
Noticing the ink staining his sleeves, he rubbed the smooth, dirtied material between two long fingers in an attempt to get rid of it, but the action just made the ink spread even further. Giving up, he let go of his sleeve and walked towards the door. With no hesitation or caution whatsoever, he opened the door, the strong wind and rain from the storm forcing him to shield his eyes.

What greeted him was a tall figure in a roguish, tattered brown coat, the hood concealing their face and body. Zhu Jian could only glimpse a pair of glowing green eyes, before the person dipped their head down, obscuring their face further.

The cultivator spoke up. "Sir, may I stay here for the night? I was on a long journey until this terrible storm struck, and I have no place to stay." Zhu Jian was slightly taken aback by the smooth and deep voice that he heard.

"Ah, of course! You may stay as long as you like."

Sensing no ill intent (or rather, something else from the stranger) Zhu Jian politely ushered him inside, the wind slamming the door shut loudly behind them. He quickly brought over an ink-stained wooden stool, which also had not escaped the clutches of his painting. Zhu Jian hoped that it would not bother the cultivator- luckily, the other only quietly sat down, his back turned to Zhu Jian.

"If it is not rude of me, may I ask for your name?" Zhu Jian asked politely.

The man seemed to think for a surprisingly long time for his name, before speaking. "...Qi Wuzhi. You may call me Wuzhi."

Zhu Jian blinked. Why is he being so informal?
Putting the thought aside, he smiled gently. "What a lovely name. You may call me Zhu Jian."

Noticing that Wuzhi had not yet revealed himself, Zhu Jian spoke up.
"Would you like me to take your coat?"

"...I would like to keep it on, thank you. It is quite cold this morning, after all."

"Ah, I understand. Then at the very least, allow me to start a fire in the fireplace."
A semi-awkward silence reigned.

Zhu Jian decided to lighten the atmosphere with another polite question, as one usually does in these situations. "Are you part of a sect, friend?"

".....I was. Not any more." The curt sentence was tinged with bitterness.

Zhu Jian flinched. Ah. That worked out well. Zhu Jian decided not to question him any further on that topic- it seemed to be a sore spot for him.
As he busied himself to try to get rid of the uncomfortable atmosphere, he felt Wuzhi get up from his seat and move closer to him. He turned around with a host-like smile on his face, ready to greet or assist him further, but the next words to come out of Wuzhi's mouth made him stop in his tracks.

"Did you really think I came to your doorstep because I was looking for shelter?"

Zhu Jian's eyes widened. "What-"
Before he could finish his sentence, he was roughly shoved to the ground, his back hitting the floor, hard. His arms and legs knocked over a nearby table, spilling some ink pots onto the wooden ground.
He felt the breath knocked out of him. The coat definitely obscured the bodily strength this person had.