The Mad Ҡìղց

Bad bad news

Duan Dan's footsteps echoed softly through the stone corridor as she followed Zhan. The palace's grandeur, with its ornate tapestries and polished floors, felt far removed from the places she had been these last few months. Zhan led her to a room at the far end of the hallway, tucked away from the main quarters, a quiet haven amidst the palace's chaos.

"This will be your room for now," Zhan said, pushing open the door to reveal a simple yet elegant chamber. "Clean up, eat, and rest. I'll send someone to call you once my mate is awake."

Duan Dan gave a weary nod. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice heavy with exhaustion. Her body ached, and her mind swirled with everything she had learned in the last few hours.

As she entered the room. Wait, Zhan said and she paused at the door, her back still to him. Cheng died, someone killed him, and the person looked like Wang, Meng saw him.

Duan Dan turned, a sly smile playing at the corners of her lips. "A shapeshifter?" she asked, her eyes gleaming with a flicker of excitement. "This could be fun. Why didn't you come to me sooner?"

Zhan's face remained impassive, but his voice was low and troubled. "Or dark magic," he said grimly.

Duan Dan's smile faded. "True," she sighed, the weight of the situation settling on her shoulders. "I'll need my grimoire."

Zhan nodded. "I'll have someone fetch it for you." Without another word, he turned and walked away, his posture tense.

"Thanks, Your Majesty," Duan Dan muttered weakly as she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She walked directly to the bathroom, peeling off her clothes and stepping into the bathtub. The hot water soothed her aching muscles, and she sank into its warmth, scrubbing away the grime and blood that had clung to her for too long.

By the time she emerged from the bath, her hair damp and loose, the smell of food filled the room. A tray laden with a hearty meal sat on a small table near the bed, and fresh clothes—a simple but elegant black dress—were laid out for her. She smiled softly, her stomach rumbling at the sight of the food. She ate hungrily, savoring every bite, then dressed quickly. After casting a simple charm to dry her hair and smooth her face, she collapsed onto the bed, her body sinking into the soft mattress. It had been months since she had felt anything close to the comfort of a bed, and within moments, she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Meanwhile, Zhan returned to his chambers, his heart heavy. Wang still lay in bed, his body trembling intermittently as though caught in a nightmare. Zhan watched him for a long moment, a deep sadness welling in his chest. Ever since he had found Wang, it had been one struggle after another. The boy was always caught in some new darkness, and Zhan felt powerless to help him.

Zhan approached the bed and sat on its edge, brushing a stray lock of hair from Wang's forehead. The boy's skin was pale, almost translucent, and his body had grown thin, too thin. Zhan's chest tightened. All he wanted was to show Wang love, to make him feel safe, but every time they seemed to find peace, something new would come crashing down around them.

I will find a way to make Wang's pain disappear. He kept telling himself that there had to be a solution, no matter how elusive it seemed. The bond they shared was sacred, and Zhan wasn't one to give up easily. Not on Wang. Not on the one person he loves.

Zhan went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for Wang. It had become a ritual for Zhan—making meals for Wang, only to watch him eat a few bites before the sickness would overwhelm him, and he would throw it all up. Still, Zhan persisted, hoping that one day things would change. Maybe Duan Dan could help. Maybe this time, there would be a way to break the cycle of pain and misery.