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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Wangji's POV:
"A-Die!"
The fragile stillness that had settled over the Jingshi shattered under the piercing cry of my son. That voice-so small, so full of anguish-ripped through the night, jolting me from the thin veil of tranquility that clung to me.
My heart, ever burdened, pounded wildly as I rushed to the door. The moment I opened it, the sight of Shizui stopped me cold. His tear-streaked face was crumpled in sorrow, and his little body shook with the weight of emotions too heavy for him to carry alone. His small hands clutched at the hem of his robes, wringing them, as if seeking some anchor in the tempest of his fear.
Without hesitation, I knelt before him, pulling him into my arms, pressing his trembling body against my chest. His cries, muffled against the fabric of my robes, reverberated through me, shaking me in ways I couldn't express.
"Shizui," I murmured, my voice rough with concern, "my child, what's wrong? What happened?"
For a moment, he was too overwhelmed to speak, his sobs wracking his small frame. But then, between shallow, ragged breaths, he managed to stammer the words.
"A-Die, I... I had a nightmare," he whispered, his voice broken by fear. "It was about Wei-gege... He was hurt, and no matter what I did, I couldn't reach him. I couldn't save him."
The name Wei Ying struck through me like a blade, sharp and unyielding. It carved through the carefully constructed walls I had built around my heart, reopening the ever-bleeding wound that had never fully healed. My chest tightened painfully, but I forced myself to remain steady. For Shizui.
Holding him closer, I rested my chin atop his head, the soft scent of childhood innocence mingling with the bitter tang of grief. His small fingers gripped at my robes, as though holding on to me could keep the nightmares at bay.
"Shh... it's alright," I whispered, my voice faltering under the weight of my own sorrow. "It was just a dream, Shizui. Wei Ying is no longer suffering. He's at peace now, somewhere safe."
Even as I said the words, the ache of longing in my chest throbbed, as though mocking me for the empty reassurance I offered my son. How could I explain to him that I, too, dreamed of Wei Ying? That I, too, reached for him in my sleep, only to awaken to the cold, unyielding reality of his absence?
I rubbed gentle circles on Shizui's back, trying to soothe him, to chase away the shadows that had wrapped themselves around his heart. "Wei-gege would want you to be strong," I said softly. "He would want you to remember the love we had, not the fear. He'd want you to smile for him, to be happy."
Shizui's sobs slowly quieted, his breaths becoming less ragged as he burrowed closer to me. I wiped the tearstains from his cheeks, looking down into his reddened eyes. There was a vulnerability there that broke me. So young, and yet already acquainted with grief, with loss.
