Ningyan lay still, the feather resting between his fingers.

On either side of him, Jun Haoxuan and Rong Yue slept, their breaths slow, presence calm, their warmth lingering even in stillness. He remained between them, aware of the faint ache in his body, a quiet reminder of the night that had passed.

It should have been enough to calm his thoughts.

But now that silence had returned, so had the unease.

The phoenix. Again and again, the thought circled back.

If someone had truly followed him, then they had been watching... waiting.

But for what? What was happening?

His brows drew faintly together.

Before the thought could settle, the chamber doors opened.

Ningyan froze.

Lan Meishan stepped in. He paused just inside, his gaze falling briefly to the bed... To Ningyan.

Then, without preamble, he moved forward and spread his arms. "I want an embrace."

There was no hesitation.

Ningyan slipped free from the quiet hold of the two beside him and crossed the distance in a breath, wrapping his arms around Meishan.

Meishan held him tightly. A long, deep breath left him as though he had been holding it for far too long.

Ningyan’s hand rose instinctively, smoothing over his back in slow, steady circles.

"It’s alright," he murmured softly.

Meishan’s body gradually eased. His eyes closed for a moment, resting in that contact, before opening again only to meet a pair of half-lidded blue feline eyes watching from the bed.

Rong Yue.

Then those eyes closed back, as though he had never truly awakened.

Ningyan smiled.

"Are you finished?" he asked quietly, leaning closer. "You look exhausted."

Meishan exhaled, pulling back just enough for their foreheads to meet.

"Almost." His voice was softer now.

"I am considering a cleansing rite. For those willing to abandon demonic cultivation... to return to pure beast qi." 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

Ningyan’s expression sharpened with thought.

Meishan continued, quieter still. "But for it to succeed... they must believe in me."

He drew Ningyan gently from the bedside. Bare feet met the floor, but Ningyan remained close, one hand catching Meishan’s sleeve, leaning into him as he listened.

"Why wouldn’t they?" Ningyan asked. "Anyone can see you are nothing like Lan Yunlai."

His hand rose, cupping Meishan’s face with easy familiarity. "You’re better than him."

Meishan froze. Color rose faintly along the tips of his ears.

"You are my Meishan," Ningyan added, softer now.

Something in Meishan’s gaze shifted.

"I am yours," He leaned closer, his breath brushing against Ningyan’s lips, but his eyes lingered on the fresh, faded marks on his neck.

His gaze darkened; he wanted to mark him too, but he hesitated.

Nothing had changed, not the way he felt about Ningyan, nor the way Ningyan looked at him. And yet, the heavy and unrelenting guilt remained.

He had only wanted to protect him... to end Lan Yunlai with his own hands.

But everything had spiraled beyond control. And now... though his original self had returned, the other presence within him had gone quiet.

But he was still there. Meishan could feel him.

Ningyan studied him, pressing his lips together. "What do you—"

Meishan didn’t let him finish, closing the distance completely and kissing him. It wasn’t forceful, but it wasn’t gentle either.... just a quiet collision of emotion.

Ningyan’s breath hitched, fingers tightening instinctively in Meishan’s sleeve as he leaned in, answering the kiss without hesitation.

For a moment, nothing else existed.

Then Meishan pulled back, breath uneven.

"You don’t understand," he murmured. "What I did that day... the guilt—"

"It doesn’t matter, Shan’er." Ningyan’s voice was firm now.

"Lan Yunlai is dead. You’re here." His gaze softened. "That’s enough."

Meishan held his gaze, something in his expression loosening a bit. "...I am going to become Beast King."

For a heartbeat, Ningyan stopped.

Then his face lit up. "That’s wonderful."

The sincerity in it made Meishan falter, a faint flush rising along his ears.

He leaned closer again, this time slower. His breath brushed against Ningyan’s neck, cool against warm skin.

"I want to leave my mark too," he said quietly.

Ningyan didn’t pull away. "Then do it."

Meishan showed no haste. He bit and kissed his neck, claiming the skin with his own marks.

When he finally drew back, his gaze met Ningyan’s again, steadier now.

"Come with me," he said softly. "There’s something I need to show you."

Ningyan studied him for a moment... then nodded.

Perhaps he did need this.

Something to pull his thoughts away from the endless circling.

He changed quickly, still wrapped in Jun Haoxuan’s robes, slipping into proper layers and boots before following Meishan out.

They moved through the quiet halls, back to the chamber where Lan Huiwen lay unconscious.

They stood in silence before her.

Their hands loosely intertwined, warmth against tranquility, life against something already fading.

Lan Huiwen did not stir. Her breath was shallow, barely there.

After a long moment, Meishan spoke. "I found the old records."

Two scrolls materialized in his grasp, wrapped in a calm emerald glow. He passed them to Ningyan, who accepted them carefully, as though they carried more than ink and parchment.

"There were two phoenixes imprisoned in the dungeon. Over three hundred years ago." Meishan continued, voice low.

Ningyan’s fingers tightened around the scrolls.

"Their family name was Xie," Meishan added. "One of the ruling houses, back when the Phoenix Clan still stood among the great divine lineages."

A faint chill ran through Ningyan.

He knew that name.

He had seen it among the ancient texts, scattered across records he salvaged from the remnants of the Phoenix Clan.

"And now..." Ningyan exhaled slowly, his gaze lowering to the scrolls. "They’ve been released."

He drew a breath, calming himself. "...I may have to seek out Han Yunyi after all."

Before this turns into something I can’t control.

Meishan glanced at him. "You should forgive her."

Ningyan let out a soft, almost helpless chuckle, leaning lightly into his arm. "I’ll try."

Meishan’s lips curved faintly, his fingers brushing once through Ningyan’s hair.

He turned his eyes back toward the bed, and the warm expression he had been wearing began to fade.

"Mother... is going to die."

There was no tremor in his voice.

Ningyan’s grip tightened around his hand. "Is she beyond saving?"

Meishan did not answer immediately.

"I have done everything I can," he said at last. "Every method. Every remedy I could find. She will not wake again."

The finality settled between them heavily.

Ningyan didn’t say a word because there was no comfort or hope left to offer that would sound real. Meishan already understood the situation. He had accepted the reality, and that quiet surrender was the start of his mourning.