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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 faerie. 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, "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.
Ningshun dismounted from his motorcycle and strode through the entrance of a grand mansion. Its elegant marble exterior gave way to a welcoming foyer illuminated by the moonlight and adorned with classy furnishings.
'Please, don't be home.' He navigated the halls with a pounding heart and went to the mansion's center, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Finally, you show yourself..." his father's murmured, brandishing a heavy book.
"Father." Ningshun stood outside the living room, avoiding his father's gaze. "I'm—"
"After running away!" He slammed the book onto the coffee table.
Ningshun flinched at the sudden noise. His chest heaved, fingers twitching as they clenched into a fist. He met his father's intense gaze.
"What's that noise?" a distant female voice called out. "Ningshun?"
"Mom," Ningshun's voice trembled as he entered the room, meeting her gaze. "I'm sorry. I..."
"My son," his mother's eyes softened as she approached him, her gentle touch easing the tension in his shoulders. "You're here... I've missed you so much."
Ningshun embraced her, soaking in her warmth and the familiar scent of her perfume—a calming blend of lavender and vanilla that made everything else fade away. 'If it weren't for her, I'd never step foot in this damn place...'
His father's scathing remarks cut through the silence. "You see? This is what happens when you indulge his childish fantasies," he directed at his wife. "Look at him, wasting his time on those games while the sons of my business partners are building real careers. They're making names for themselves, while he—"
"Have my own career and don't depend on your dirty money?"
His father struck his face, the slap echoing through the room and leaving a stinging imprint on his son's cheek. "This dirty money you refer to is paying for your mother's medical bills. With you, she'd be dead."
Each word struck Ningshun like a lash, stoking the flames of resentment within him. Clenching his fists and tightening his jaw, he swallowed his anger, recognizing the futility of challenging his father's temper.
His mother reached out, her hand trembling as she stroked his face with a gentle touch. "Honey," she whispered, her voice filled with love and concern. "It's not true. Your father has been under a lot of stress lately, and I'm better. I'm getting better, truly. I just want you to be happy."
"We're having a business dinner tomorrow night. They're bringing their daughter, and it's high time you start thinking about your future and settle down with a good girl, one that isn't a disappointment like you." His father let out a derisive chuckle. "Look at yourself, fix that damn hair... Marriage is your only opportunity to secure your place in society."
Ningshun shook his head. "I have plans."
"You will be there, or—"
"OR WHAT!?"
His father's expression darkened, sneering. "Don't show up... and you'll find out."
Ningshun's breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling with restrained anger. His fists clenched until his knuckles turned white. "This was a mistake," he ground out, avoiding his father's gaze. "I shouldn't have come back."
"Ningshun!" his mother cried out.
"I'm sorry, Mom... I'll visit—" Ningshun stopped himself. With that, he made his way out of the mansion.
Storming out of the mansion, Ningshun's pace quickened as he approached his motorcycle, muscles taut with tension. Scoffing, he adjusted his denim jacket and swung his leg over the bike with practiced ease. The engine roared to life like a lion's growl.
He twisted the throttle, tires screeching against the pavement as he tore down the driveway, gravel crunching beneath him. "Damn old man," he muttered under his breath, fingers tightening on the throttle.
His eyes narrowed as he roared onto the main road, the engine's roar echoing through the streets. The world blurred into streaks of light and shadow as he weaved through traffic. Cars honked and swerved, but his mind raced with his father's words, each a dagger to his pride.
'What was I even hoping for?' He gritted his teeth.
He pushed the bike harder, the needle on the speedometer climbing. He shot through red lights, driving between vehicles with fearless precision, the honking horns fading into the background. The wind whipped against his face, failing to cool his boiling blood.
'Marriage, for my own sake? What a joke coming from a narcissist!' Ningshun's fists gripped the handlebars with such force that his knuckles turned white.
Tearing through the city streets, he took sharp corners at breakneck speeds, his bike leaning at a dangerous angle toward the ground.
Memories of his father's disapproval fueled him. "I'm so sick of it. I'm so tired. I can't handle it anymore!" he growled, pushing his bike to its limits. "LEAVE ME ALONE! LEAVE US ALONE!"
Racing further, his eyes caught sight of a railway crossing up ahead. Flashing lights and warning bells signaled an approaching train. In a moment of fury and despair, something deep within him snapped. All the frustration, the years of mental imprisonment, flooded through him.
For an instant, Ningshun entertained the idea of speeding toward the oncoming train. "Oh, yes..." A naughty smirk twisted his lips. "You'd love this, wouldn't you?" Gritting his teeth, he rushed toward the tracks at maximum speed as time slowed around him.
The railway crossing lights flashed red, and warning bells clanged to slow his speed. The ground beneath his tires trembled in anticipation of the impending danger.
There it was—the silhouette of the train hurtling toward him. The world fell silent, except for the roar of the train's wheels ripping through the tracks. Every fiber of his being screamed to let go and end his suffering, all in a split second. As the train's silhouette grew larger, the deafening noise rumbled, drowning out everything else. His 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.
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