The Mad Ҡìղց

Pains and Screams

"There are herbs," Duan Dan said, her voice low, almost hesitant, "

Zhan, who had been sitting near the chair where Wang lay, stepped closer. His brow furrowed with concern as he glanced between Wang's frail form and the witch. "What does it entail?" he asked, his voice low yet urgent, the weight of desperation hanging over him.

Duan Dan's gaze flicked to him briefly before turning back to the grimoire. "Candles, lots of candles. Elderberry, witchberry, wolfsbane, mugwort, and mayweed." She closed the book with a snap and met Zhan's eyes. "These ingredients are dangerous on their own, but together, they have the power to purge the curse that is slowly killing him."

Zhan nodded curtly, already pulling his phone from his pocket. He typed a quick message to his personal guard, listing the items Duan Dan had specified. There was no need for a reply—the guard would gather everything swiftly. Zhan's efficiency had always been one of his greatest strengths, but right now, the weight of his decisions bore down heavily on him. He would do anything to save Wang, even if it meant involving Duan Dan, the woman whose mere presence was a reminder of their painful past.

Zhan remained silent, watching Duan Dan as she gathered her thoughts, mentally preparing herself for what was to come. He stood up, paced around then walked to where Wang lay, pale and drenched in sweat. The young man's condition had worsened over the past few days, and Zhan could see the life draining from his body.

Zhan stayed close to Wang's side, his presence more of a comfort than any words could offer. Wang's eyes fluttered open, clouded with pain and exhaustion. and for a brief moment, clarity returned to him. He glanced around, his vision settling on Duan Dan, across the room her posture as rigid and unreadable as ever. sending a wave of raw emotion crashing over him.

Wang's gaze darkened instantly. The memories of his parents' violent deaths at the hands of this woman came rushing back. And then there was Zhan—Zhan, who had betrayed him in the worst way by taking the life of his lover. The emotions in Wang's chest stirred, a boiling mix of hate and anguish. His hands gripped the sheets beneath him as if they were his only tether to reality.

The witch who killed my parents... and the man who killed my lover..." Wang whispered, his voice weak but laced with venom. The weight of his hatred was palpable, flooding his chest, squeezing his breath.

Zhan felt the sting of Wang's words, but he had long made peace with his own guilt. "I know you're angry, Wang," Zhan said softly. "You have every right to be. But she's here to help you now. Meng has done all she can, and I can't keep relying on her. This... this is different."

Wang's lips curled into a sneer, but he lacked the strength to voice the venomous words building in his throat. His body was exhausted, the weeks of suffering taking their toll. "Where's Grandma?" he asked instead, his voice hoarse and broken.

Zhan's expression softened. He brushed his hand across Wang's face brushing Wang's sweat-drenched hair from his face. a tender gesture that belied the storm of emotions swirling inside him. "She hasn't slept in days. I wanted her to rest, Wang. Let me take care of you today."

Wang turned his head away, too drained to argue further. His body sagged against the pillows, surrendering to the waves of fatigue that rolled over him.

Moments later, the guard returned, carrying a bag filled with the requested herbs and candles. Duan Dan stretched her fingers curling around the rough linen bag. She moved with a purpose, of someone who had performed these ritual countless times. She arranged the candles in a circle, lighting each one with a single breath. The soft, flickering light cast eerie shadows across the room. She conjured a small, blackened cauldron, placing it carefully in the center of the circle. The herbs were dropped in one by one, and she stirred them with a wooden rod, chanting words in an ancient tongue that sent a shiver down Zhan's spine. and the mixture inside the cauldron began to bubble and swirl. Soon, the potion took shape—a dark, viscous liquid that shimmered unnaturally in the candlelight and gave off an eerie, almost metallic smell. She dipped a ladle into the brew and poured a small amount into a silver chalice and crossed the room to Wang. She knelt beside him, her expression unreadable. "Drink this," she said, her voice calm but commanding.

Before Wang could take the chalice, he hesitated, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What's this for?" he asked. His voice was stronger than before, but it still carried the weight of distrust. "It's different from the one Meng has been giving me."

Zhan and Duan Dan exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them that Wang couldn't quite read. Zhan's expression softened, and he turned to Wang with a gentleness that Wang hadn't seen in a long time.

"Do you trust me?" Zhan asked, his voice steady but his eyes betraying the vulnerability behind the question.

Wang, with all the honesty his pain allowed, shook his head. "No."

Zhan's lips twitched, almost into a smile, but the sadness behind it was clear. "But you know I can't kill you, right?"

Wang stared at him for a long moment, his eyes flicked to the chalice once more, and despite everything, he knew that Zhan was right. Whatever had happened between them, Zhan wasn't here to end his life. Without another word, Wang took the chalice and drank the bitter concoction. its taste was almost unbearable, but he swallowed it down, his throat burning as it went.

The effect was almost immediate. Within minutes. A sharp pain ripped through his stomach, and he doubled over, clutching his abdomen. His cries filled the room, agonized and raw. The pain spread through his limbs, crawling up his spine like fire, twisting and knotting his muscles. His vision blurred as tears formed in his eyes, and he let out a gut-wrenching scream.

"Make it stop!" Wang gasped, clutching at Zhan's arm. "Please... make it stop..."

Zhan held his hand tightly, his heart breaking at the sight of Wang in so much pain. It'll be over soon," he whispered, though his own voice trembled with uncertainty.

Duan Dan's eyes remained fixed on Wang, her face expressionless as she watched the herbs unfold. "The pain is necessary," she murmured under her breath. "It has to run its course."

Wang screamed again, his body convulsing, his hands pressing against his chest as though he could tear the agony out. His face contorted with unbearable pain, and his voice cracked with each cry. The sound of his suffering filled the room, echoing off the stone walls.

The door burst open, and Meng and Chang rushed in, their faces pale with terror. They had heard Wang's screams from their rooms and came running, fearing the worst. When they saw Duan Dan standing over Wang, their expressions turned from fear to shock.

Meng's eyes flashed with anger. "What is she doing here?" she demanded, her voice sharp as she pointed accusingly at Duan Dan.

"She's helping," Zhan said quietly, still gripping Wang's hand.

Meng's gaze darted to the cauldron and the candles, the scent of the potion lingering in the air. She stepped closer, her face growing pale as realization dawned on her. She inhaled deeply, recognizing the distinct aroma of the herbs Duan Dan had used.

She stiffened.

Her hand shot to her mouth in disbelief, and she whirled around to face Duan Dan and Zhan. "Are you making him have an abortion?" she hissed, her voice shaking with outrage.

Abortion?" Chang whispered, stepping back in shock. Her face turned pale, and her eyes filled with fear. She stared at Zhan, her hands trembling. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Zhan's voice was calm, though the weight of his words seemed to press down on him. "I didn't want to burden you. We've troubled you enough, and the fewer people who know about this, the better."

Meng shook her head, her eyes narrowing with fury. "How dare you make this decision without telling us?" she shouted. "How dare you subject him to this!"