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Meilin sauntered as if walking on clouds. She had not imagined that the fuzziness in her heart could feel so... natural.
'He's always there for me... He comforts me, makes me laugh...' Her lips curved into a wistful smile, and her steps faltered as her expression softened. 'But maybe... maybe I could be there for him, too. Maybe I could help him feel that he doesn't have to carry everything alone... that I'm here for him... that he doesn't have to be strong all the time.' She longed to see him smile again, truly smile—not just that faint, polite curve of his lips, but something real, something unguarded. 'I'll tell him. I'll let him know.'
Fast footsteps broke her thoughts. She turned, heart leaping as Ningshun jogged toward her, both urgent and hesitant.
"Meilin," he called as he stopped before her, his voice carrying guilt. "I... I really have to go."
Her heart sank, but she kept it from showing. "Oh," she murmured, her tone faltering. "Sure, I... I understand."
He met her gaze, his mint-green eyes conflicted, as though he wanted to say more but could not find the words. "I'm sorry. It's just... something important came up." He hesitated, then added in a quieter voice, "I'll make it up to you."
She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "It's fine. Really."
But it was not fine. It was not that he was leaving; what hurt was the timing—that she had lost her chance to make him feel better.
She observed him stride away, her chest tensing as each step of his took him farther from her. Her gaze lowered, her shoulders sinking with her unsaid words. 'Why couldn't I say it?'
Her fists clenched at her sides, her chest aching as Ningshun disappeared into the crowd. Yet, even as he vanished from sight, his presence lingered—strong, steady, and unreachable.
For the first time, she felt how deeply she wanted to be by his side—not just when she needed him, but when he needed her, too.
As she stood there, lost in thought, Yuming's cheerful voice broke through. "Meilin! There you are!" The group hurried toward her, beaming with relief on their faces.
Meilin managed a small smile. "Hey. Ningshun had to leave early. Something came up."
Yuming frowned. "He left? That's too bad. I wanted to talk to him about..." She trailed off, her expression souring. "Actually, forget it."
Meilin raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"
"I'm mad at Kaili!" Yuming snapped, turning to face him, hands on her hips.
Meilin blinked. "Mad? Why?"
"He grabbed my..." Yuming whispered, then her voice rose, "in the haunted mansion!"
"It was an accident!" Kaili raised his hands in protest. "I swear! I panicked! You know how terrifying that horned thing was!"
Yuming glared. "Terrifying enough to lose your decency?"
As the group continued walking, the atmosphere between them tensed.
Yuming folded her arms, still fuming as she glared at Kaili. "You're lucky I haven't decked you yet."
"For the last time, I didn't mean to!" Kaili defended. "The thing jumped at me, and I—"
"Scared or not, you crossed a line!" Yuming snapped, her voice shaking with anger.
Meilin, walking behind them, monitored the exchange with unease as the group fell into an awkward silence. Searching for something to lift their spirits, she spotted the rollercoaster in the distance, twisting like a python.
"Let's go to the rollercoaster, guys!" Meilin's excitement broke through.
Everyone turned toward it, the looping tracks and riders' screams drawing their attention.
"You want to go on that?" Yuming asked, her tone lightening a little.
Meilin nodded. "Yeah. Let's do it."
The group exchanged glances before agreeing, and quickened their pace toward the ride.
On their way to the rollercoaster, they passed a small tent that could fit only a handful of people. A sign in front read: Fortune Telling with Angel Cards and Divine Crystals.
The tent opening revealed two people seated inside. The lady shuffling the cards wore a white, velvety dress and smiled as she spoke, as if speaking from her heart. Across from her sat another woman, her back turned to the team.
Meilin stopped in her tracks, as if spikes rooted her feet to the ground, making her unable to lift even a foot. No outside force held her still—only the intense gaze of the woman in white. Meilin could not bear to meet her eyes; even a single look thrown her way was enough to shudder her back, as if an icy grip clamped it.
Sick to her stomach, Meilin's breathing quickened as her gaze dipped to the table, where cards with drawings of angels lay. One card even depicted the 'Devil' as an angel, alongside the 'Death' card. She could have sworn she heard the woman say that the Death card was a good omen, signifying the end of a cycle and the welcoming of new beginnings, along with her claim that she channeled God and the angels for these 'divine' messages. A bitter taste formed in the back of her throat.
Somehow, in this trance, Meilin heard her name—muffled and static—but she remained in place. Her eyes narrowed, drawn into the little details she caught sight of, and her jaw dropped.
Dark creatures swirled around the women inside the tent, with claws and bony fingers.
Meilin's breath caught in her chest.
The shadowy figures turned, staring Meilin straight in the eyes with deep, hollow sockets before they vanished.
Unable to scream, Meilin's hands lost control and shook. Paralyzed to the core, a pout formed on her lips as she drifted into the embrace of fear.
"Meilin! Are you okay? Talk to me!"
Snapping back to reality, Meilin grounded herself, now glancing into Yuming's heartwarming, round eyes. "Yuming..." she whispered, her voice cracking. "I... I just..." She swallowed hard. 'It was just a hallucination... My mind is playing tricks on me. Yes, it's because of the Haunted Mansion. There's no way I just saw...' She paused, trying to steady her breath but failing. 'Demons.'
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 here, 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 black leather 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.
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Demon King's Love - Copyright © 2023 by Aurora Luxi. All Rights Reserved.
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