When the worlds of the nine-tailed fox prince, the king of the diabolical realm, and the pure white dragon, renowned for his justice and kindness, collide, an extraordinary tale of love and harmony unfolds. At first, their realms seem incompatible...
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My Love,
Your Lan Zhan has died a hundred deaths since the day I watched you cry. Each tear that slipped down your face felt like a dagger to my soul, a pain so deep it ripped me apart from the inside. My Wei, seeing you in pain knowing I couldn't take you in my arms, couldn't protect you killed me in ways I never knew were possible.
Not being able to keep you safe, to shield you from this world's cruelty, has destroyed me.
Jingshi... it was a place filled with peace, just like you, my love. Both of you were the home my tired soul longed for at the end of each day. Both of you were once scarred and bruised by the world, yet you still managed to transform into something beautiful. Despite all the pain, you both had the warmth and comfort of home.
But now that you are gone, Jingshi is empty. The warmth has vanished. The sense of home... no longer exists.
Your Lan Zhan.
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Xichen's POV:
The physician's words echoed through my mind like a death sentence. "Prince Xichen, if this continues, I fear Prince Wangji has no will left to live." The finality of those words weighed on me. His meaning was clear my brother, my Wangji, would slowly fade away if nothing changed.
I had found him at the bottom of the Nightless City's cliff, his body limp and lifeless. The sight of him lying there, as if the world had taken all it could from him, sent a cold shiver down my spine. With the help of others, we brought him back to an inn. He lay there now, staring blankly at nothing, his body a fragile shell, his soul nowhere to be found.
I stood by his side, watching him, my heart shattering into a thousand pieces. This was the boy I had raised, the boy who once clung to me after our parents died. He used to call me Dada, so soft and innocent, until even that was taken from him. He stopped speaking, stopped reaching out, burdened by the weight of the world, by loss after loss. And now, I feared, that weight had finally broken him.
Wangji, the ever-stoic and composed Lan Wangji, lay before me as a mere shadow of who he had once been. The cracks in his icy exterior had deepened, widened, until nothing was left but his broken heart on full display. He had always carried his burdens in silence, never letting anyone see how much it hurt him. But now, even that silence was too much for him to bear. He had been consumed by the grief he could no longer suppress.
