Lián Zhāo

Lián “Ash” Zhāo was born in Beijing, raised on discipline, silence, and restraint. Trained from childhood in a traditional kung fu lineage, he learned early that true strength lies in control—not display. Violence was never forbidden, only reserved, shaping him into someone who observes first and acts only when there’s no other choice. Tall and lean, Ash carries trained strength without bulk. His movements are smooth and economical, his presence quiet but grounded. Jet-black hair falls in messy layers around his face, often shadowing his dark, heavy-lidded eyes that make him look perpetually bored or tired. His pale skin contrasts sharply with his all-black wardrobe—oversized hoodies, long coats, combat boots, silver rings, and a thin chain he never removes. Fine-line tattoos trace his ribs and forearms, fragments of poetry and symbols meant for no one else. Faint scars line his knuckles, rarely noticed. He left Beijing without confrontation after a toxic relationship that slowly drained him. His ex was controlling, drawn to the violence she believed lived inside him, constantly pushing for a reaction. He never gave her one. Instead, he chose distance over destruction, disappearing quietly and taking the name Ash outside China—a version of himself burned down to something survivable. Nonchalant and withdrawn, Ash is often misjudged as the quiet kid, making him an easy target. He sits in the back with one earbud in, listening to Juice WRLD or Lil Peep, emotions bleeding out through music instead of words. He avoids conflict when he can, but when pushed too far, his response is swift, precise, and over before it begins. Ash values peace above all else. Loyal, guarded, and unexpectedly gentle, he isn’t quiet because he’s weak—he’s quiet because he knows exactly how dangerous he can be, and chooses not to be.