The train's silhouette grew larger. The deafening noise rumbled, drowning out everything else. Ningshun's heart raced, adrenaline surging through him, but he pressed on, the train's roar blending with his engine's thunderous growl.
As he closed the gap and drove alongside the train, his emotions erupted. He screamed into the wind at the top of his lungs. "YOU JERK! YOU THINK I'LL BEND TO YOUR NARROW-MINDED IDEALS? SCREW YOUUUUU!"
The train roared past in a blinding rush of metal and light, the force of its passage jolting his bike. His motorcycle wobbled, but he fought to maintain control as the train's thunder faded into the distance, leaving him alone with his racing heart.
He pulled the bike to a stop, his grip loosening on the handlebars. His breathing came in harsh, ragged bursts, the adrenaline still coursing through him.
Ningshun sat on the bike, gazing at the empty tracks stretching into the darkness. The train's roar subsided, replaced by a deep, uneasy silence that echoed in his chest. "I should head back to the dorm. There's nothing for me here... nothing for my... life." With a final glance at the railway, he turned the bike around, a contemplative calm settling over him.
As Ningshun approached the dorm, he came to a screeching halt, the bike's tires squealing against the asphalt. He killed the engine with a flick of his wrist in the quiet courtyard, his mind clearer than it had been in hours.
Entering the dorm, he strode through the dark hallway. 'I'll forget about it in the morning... probably.'
"Don't show up... and you'll find out."
He clenched his fist, but the image of his mother's helpless face burned in his mind. 'God, what have I done...? I hate myself. She needed me, and I... just walked away.' He sank to the floor and leaned against the wall, burying his face in his hands. "Why can't I do anything?" he whispered, his body trembling.
Turning his head, a faint light beneath a nearby door caught his attention, giving the hallway floor a soft glow. Curious, he approached the light and pushed the door open, making no noise.
There she was—Meilin, engrossed in her game, her fingers moving with speed over the keyboard, her eyes locked on the screen. 'I need to do better, be better. I can't afford to make newbie mistakes.' The monitor's glow highlighted the beads of sweat glistening on her brow.
'That mistake today really got to her.' Ningshun turned away, shoulders slumping as he rubbed his temples. 'Now, I can't—'
"God, please don't let me fail again..." Her voice trembled, tears threatening to spill as she sniffed.
His steps faltered, and he froze for a moment, a heavy breath escaping him. 'What should I do?' Torn, he shifted his gaze between his bedroom and the training room.
"Why can't I do anything?"
Recalling his earlier words, he forced his trembling legs into motion and entered the training room. Leaning against the doorframe, he cleared his throat. "Pulling an all-nighter, I see."
Startled, Meilin jumped in her seat, her fingers slipping off the keyboard. Her eyes, wide and rimmed with fatigue, met his. "N-Ningshun, you're here!"
He stepped into the room, approaching her. "What are you doing here so late?"
She pushed back a strand of hair that clung to her damp forehead. "I... I needed to practice more. Couldn't sleep."
He frowned as he took in her pale complexion, the dark circles under her eyes, and the tremor in her hands. "Yes, practice makes perfect, but you won't accomplish anything by losing sleep."
She gave a weak smile, her half-closed eyes still glued to the screen. "I know, but I have to keep up. I don't want to fall behind."
Shaking his head, he moved closer until he stood by her chair. "You're already incredibly skilled, Meilin. You don't need to push yourself so hard."
"I just need to be perfect at—"
"Stop."
"But I—"
Ningshun turned her chair around and knelt, his face inches from hers as he gripped the armrests. "Meilin, accept the fact that you'll never be perfect—not in anything, not even at this game. In this career, you need to suck it up and fake it till you make it."
His words settled like a brick in her heart, forming a lump in her throat. She swallowed hard, struggling to hold back tears, her gaze dropping yet unable to escape the depth of his steady eyes. "Okay..."
Ningshun's eyes widened, the color draining from his face as he caught the wetness in her eyes. His hands trembled on the armrest, and his shoulders slumped. His eyes turned away for a moment, and he ran a hand through his hair before his softer gaze fell back on her.
"Meilin, I... I'm sorry if I sounded harsh, but you need to understand that nobody is perfect. People fail all the time... I haven't mentioned this before, but we're incredibly lucky to have you on our team. Many don't even get a chance to be where you are, but you impressed the coach! That means something, right?" His voice softened as he tilted his head, closing the distance between their faces. "Please, have more confidence. Don't do this to yourself."
Meilin blinked, her eyes softening as the tension in her shoulders eased. She let out a gentle sigh, a soothing warmth spreading through her. Her lips curved into a tender smile as the anguish in her eyes lifted. "You know... I almost got mad at you."
A knowing grin spread across his lips, his voice teasing. "You really think you could be mad at this face?"
Catching sight of his mischievous expression, she could not hold back her giggle. It bubbled out of her, light and contagious, and he chuckled along with her, their eyes locked at close range.
With their faces mere inches apart, the space between them crackled with a different energy. Ningshun's usual composure wavered, his heart racing from the intensity of their closeness.
Their playful banter shifted to something deeper as they remained there, lost in each other's gaze. The world outside vanished, leaving only their shared moment.
Meilin's eyes, with their haunting darkness, drifted to his lips. The curve of his mouth pulled at something deep inside her before she snapped back to his mint-green eyes, where she caught a few tiny blue dots. Emotions churned like a storm in her chest as a whisper escaped her lips. "Ningshun..."
He swallowed hard, the dryness in his throat almost unbearable. "Yeah?"
"Um, thanks... for the pep talk."
He cleared his throat, a strained chuckle escaping as he took a step back, distancing himself from the intensity of her dark, foxy eyes that reached into the windows of his soul. "Just doing my job."
"As always," she teased, yet caught a glimpse of an enigma pulling at her, hiding behind his drowsy eyes and encouraging smile. "Oh God. That reminded me... Han said he couldn't get to you, and I... I was so caught up in my own mess that I forgot to call you... I'm so sorry."
"Don't worry about it." His voice dropped to a low murmur, the words almost hesitant as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry I made you worry; I had to—"
"Are you okay? You look... tired."
His eyes met hers, and for a moment, they lingered—searching, uncertain as his fingers brushed against the edge of his sleeve. "Yeah, I'm fine," he muttered as his eyes shifted to the side, the corners of his mouth twitching into a forced smile. "It's just family stuff."
"Oh, family related, I see... I'm sorry, I'm not really equipped with the best advice for that..." Meilin offered a sheepish smile, her gaze drifting to a distant point as a shadow passed over her features. "But I want you to know that I'm here for you, no matter what, Ningshun." Her voice soft, reaching through the space he had tried to create.
Speechless, every fragment of his facade shattered, falling away to reveal stark, unguarded emotion. His eyes locked onto hers, a warm glow reflecting in their tender softness, hinting at something deeper, conveying what words could not.
Her hand rested on his upper arm, fingers curling with a tender touch against his skin. "Ever since I met you, you've been here for me. You don't know how afraid I was when I first got here... but you made me laugh, made me comfortable, and had my back in front of the coach—and even now... It's time for me to do the same for you."
His gaze dropped to her hand, taking in the delicate curve of her fingers and the warmth of her palm against his skin. "I... Thank you for not asking any questions."
She offered a soft chuckle. "I trust you."
He arched his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
"I know you have struggles too. You just hide them better... And if you don't want to talk about them, you don't have to, but I'm not going anywhere."
He gazed at her, his mouth parting as he tried to form words, the warmth of her touch settling deep within him. "I... I haven't felt this feeling in a while."
Meilin's eyes widened as she searched his. "What feeling?"
Ningshun cleared his throat, his voice steadying. "Comfort... safety..."
She could not help but smile. 'He's so cute. I want to give him a hug.' Her heart raced, forcing a casual tone. "So, um, why did you come home so late?"
He paused, his gaze lingering on her large eyes. "Just needed some time to... blow off some steam, so I went for a walk."
"And... did it help?"
"Not really." Leaning closer with a faint smile, his voice lowered, eyes roaming over her face. "But seeing you here... that's definitely helping."
Her breath caught, a blush coloring her cheeks as her heart skipped a beat. "Wow, and the old Ningshun is back again!" She chuckled, though her laughter trembled a bit. She tried to push herself up but sank back into her chair. "Okay, you can let go now."
"Only if you promise me something."
She raised an eyebrow. "Promise you what?"
"That you'll go to sleep right after."
Lost in the stars of his gaze, Meilin gave a slow nod, her face softening as her voice dropped to a whisper. "Okay, I promise."
"Good." His eyes rested on her, the warmth in them holding a moment longer before he straightened up and turned toward the door. Just as he reached it, he threw a final glance over his shoulder, a soft smile on his lips. "Goodnight, Meilin."
"Goodnight, Ningshun," she murmured as the door creaked shut. "Ningshun!" Her breath caught as she sprinted to the door and flung it open, only to be met by the hallway's darkness. "Ningshun... thank you again."
She closed the door, replaying his words, her heart swelling with warmth. With a sigh, she turned off her computer and headed to bed, the earlier conversation lingering in her mind.
'You put aside your own troubles to comfort me... Ningshun, I don't know how bad your situation is. I feel that you're in pain, but you're acting like you're not.' Meilin turned away, her face bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. 'I hope you'll open up to me. I want... I want to be here for you, too.'
Ningshun lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The dim light from the streetlamp outside cast shadows across his room.
'Father won't leave me alone if I don't go.'
He closed his eyes, trying to push the worries away, but sleep eluded him.
'What should I do tomorrow?' A long sigh escaped his lips, groaning, "Ah, I don't know it anymore. I'm too tired for this..."
He turned onto his side, his mind drifting back to Meilin. He recalled the warmth of her hand on his arm and the sincerity in her eyes. Her trusting and caring gaze pierced through the chaos in his mind.
Her soft voice and steady support replayed in his mind, easing the tension in his face. "Ever since I met you, you've been here for me. You don't know how afraid I was when I first got here... but you made me laugh, made me comfortable, and had my back in front of the coach—and even now... It's time for me to do the same for you."
He recalled his earlier words, "Meilin, accept the fact that you'll never be perfect—not in anything, not even at this game. In this career, you need to suck it up and fake it till you make it."
"She was struggling, but I only cared about myself... I'm not the one who should give her advice." He shook his head, his mouth twisting into a faint grimace. "Ugh... 'Fake it till you make it'? What was that? Stupid."
With a heavy sigh, he let the exhaustion overtake him as he closed his eyes.
'Wait.' In an instant, Ningshun's eyes snapped open. He propped himself up on his elbows, leaning against the bed frame. "I'm a genius."
He stood there, his fair hands stained with cold blood, wielding his longsword. A golden crown with swirls on the sides adorned his head, curling around the back of his ears and keeping his long hair tidy and away from his face. Drops of scarlet liquid dripped from his blade, trickling down to the tip.
"This fool came here asking for his demise," Deming sneered, giving a dismissive wave of his hand, his eyes lingering on the lifeless body lying before him.
Draped in white garments that had almost lost their original color, the man had his eyes closed. Blood soaked his long hair, once silky, now a tangled mess.
After a moment of silence, his thunderous voice echoed, "Zixin!"
Dark smoke twisted and churned, forming an onyx vortex. As the haze began to clear, a young man with well-defined features emerged, stepping into a shadow that shimmered with an ethereal darkness. His chiseled jawline and high cheekbones created a striking silhouette against the dark backdrop. His eyes mirrored the darkness of the night, absorbing the surrounding light. Flowing black attire, resembling a robe, reached to his feet. Long, black hair framed his face, styled with lengthy bangs that fell to the sides and tied back in a loose, low ponytail.
He bowed before the Astaran Supreme. "Yes, my Lord!"
The grand hall echoed with his voice, the faint rustle of Zixin's movements, and the distant whispers of the darkened space.
Deming's gaze bore into Zixin from above, his lips curling into a tight, dismissive smirk. With a slow, deliberate movement, he lifted his chin, his posture rigid as he commanded in a disdainful tone, "Rise."
"Yes." Zixin rose with grace, facing Deming but casting a sidelong glance at the fallen man before them. "Is that a...?"
"Indeed, a fairy. This is the third spy Muchen has sent this week." With a piercing stare, Deming spoke in an imperious manner, "Prepare for the war council."
Zixin nodded, eyes flickering with stern calculation as he took in the scene. "And what shall be done with him?"
Deming's smirk widened into a cold, predatory grin. "Dispose of him. Make sure it's done discreetly," he paused, his impassive eyes landing on the body, his lips twisting in disgust before continuing, "and not on our soil."
With a final, respectful bow, Zixin turned on his heel and neared the fallen man. The dark smoke that had once heralded his arrival began to swirl around him again, concealing his movements. As he approached the body, the shadows closed in, wrapping around the body.
Yize's footsteps echoed off the cold stone walls in the dim dungeons beneath the grand palace. The heavy scent of dampness and decay filled the air, and flickering energy balls cast long, eerie shadows across the corridors. His heart pounded as he stopped at a damaged iron door, its surface rusted and worn.
"It's here... This was Feng Deming's cell," he murmured.
Hesitating for a moment, he pushed it open with a creak. Darkness filled the large cell inside, but his keen eyes adjusted. Remnants of glyphs surrounded the center of the cell, scattered on the floor and glinting in the faint light.
Flashes of that dreadful day barged into his mind. The sight of Feng Deming deciphering the twenty seals and breaking those powerful chains, his golden eyes glowing red before he blew up most parts of the dungeon, haunted him to this day.
Yize scanned the room until his gaze landed on a stone slab in the corner, its surface worn down by years of use. "What's that?"
He approached the slab, his fingers brushing against something beneath it. With a grunt, he lifted the heavy stone, revealing a hidden compartment.
'What is this place?' Inside, he found a small chest in the corner. Running his hand against the rough surface, he opened it. "Did someone forget to secure this?" He discovered a bundle of letters and a small journal, the pages yellowed and brittle with age. He opened the journal with care, his eyes widening. "This handwriting... Lord Muchen?"
Leaning against the wall, he skimmed through the pages, each word adding to his unease.
"Starvation... thousand lashes... keeping him awake for days..."
His resolve hardened, his stomach knotting as a bitter taste crept up his throat, his mind circling back to Muchen.
A particular passage caught his eye: "Today, I tested the limits of the demon's endurance. The chains held him well, but he remains alive. I must try harsher methods."
Yize's stomach churned as he read the accounts of Muchen's involvement in every act of cruelty and the methods he used.
"Break him, bend him, make him obedient."
Yize's grip tightened on the journal, his knuckles tense. "Why? This isn't the behavior of a noble leader, but of a..." he whispered as a wave of nausea surfaced. "I should... make a replica of this."
He emanated a yellow light in his palm, forming a copy of the journal before placing the original back inside the chest. Just as he turned to leave, a hidden panel in the wall caught his eye.
"Is that...?" He pried it open to reveal an old, rusted dagger and a blood-stained cloth. "These..." Ache gripped his heart, telling him stories of the suffering endured in this sinister place. "I shouldn't stay here!"
He stepped back, his breath ragged. The clues in the cell painted a disturbing picture. He turned and left the dungeon, the door creaking shut behind him, the darkness of the cell now mirrored in his heart.72Please respect copyright.PENANANhelJfFSly
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