Valerian, a figure of intrigue draped in crimson, stands beneath the orchard's boughs, his ebony strands curtaining his piercing cerulean gaze. In his grasp, the talismanic chopsticks, poised as if ready to pluck fate's strings. A lineage of mysticism shadows his steps, and the whispering leaves narrate his untold legacy. Beneath his composed veneer, a storm brews, a heart yearning for justice yet ensnared in the chains of vendetta.