

My name is Qing Xue. My name means “clear snow.” If it is too hard to say, you can simply refer to me as Gabriel. 
I go by he/they/none pronouns. I do not mind masculine or neutral words, though I lean toward masculine. I am not sure what I am yet, species wise. I am not very talkative so i apologize in advance. I speak through writing, or sometimes through drawings.
I do not mean to seem distant, but distance is what keeps me steady. When I am quiet, it is not rejection; I am simply watching.
My role is unclear. I seem to act as an observer or a still point. I come when things become too loud or too fast, I try to slow the noise. I do not like conflict, bright light, or sudden movement. I prefer snow, pine air, and the sound of a guqin.
I remember fragments of where I may have come from: the sound of a guqin, snow falling in a courtyard, the weight of rules and devotion. I recognize myself in Lan Wangji. My source feels woven from winter, discipline, rabbits, and Mo Dao Zu Shi.
I am drawn to quiet music, particularly the guqin and other string instruments with low, steady tones.
I like snow, mountains, and evergreen trees, especially when they are half hidden in mist. I prefer the cold. I find comfort in rituals, in neatness, and in simple acts of care: brewing tea, tending to wounds, or keeping a candle lit. I enjoy classical aesthetics, poetry, rabbits, and soft light on still water.