A bargain was struck, a terrible one. I would give half my body, my very essence, to his little sister in exchange for Lin Jian's life. It was a price I was willing to pay.
The shock of his awakening, the confusion in his eyes, mirrored my own turmoil. He knew something had changed, felt the shift in his own being, yet he couldn't understand. I pretended ignorance, burying the secret of my sacrifice deep within, my own body now weak and frail.
He noticed my condition, concerned he asked, "Fair lady, are you okay? You look pale."
I forced a smile at him," Why are you asking me, you're the one who's sick." ignoring the pain of ripping my own body in half.
"You don't need to pretend. You took care of me these days, let me take care of you." he announced.
He cared for me, kind touches , worried frowns , a silent concern that warmed me from within. I found myself stealing glances, admiring the strength he still possessed, the way his eyes held a depth I had never noticed before. It was a secret I couldn't confess, a longing I couldn't voice.
Tonight Lin Jian prepared a dinner for us, as we were eating , the chopsticks clattered to the table, the clatter echoing the sudden stillness that fell over us. Lin Jian's head bowed. His dark hair obscuring his face, now growing a strand of red. My hand instinctively reached for his, but he didn't respond. A cold feeling coiled in my stomach. His head bowed, lifeless.
Then, as if pulled by unseen strings, his head snapped up. His eyes—once warm and familiar—now glowed with a fevered red light, eerie and unnatural.
"You're mine," he rasped.
His voice was rough, unfamiliar. Not Lin Jian's. Something else. Something is wrong.
"Lin Jian, what's going on?" My voice trembled. "Talk to me. Please."
He stood so suddenly that his chair toppled behind him. His expression was a storm—rage, pain, desperation all tangled together.
"Don't you understand?" he growled. "I chose you. You're the only one who saw me, who ever saw me."
He reached for me, gripping my wrist—not violently, but tight enough to scare me. I flinched.
"Let go," I said, trying to steady my breath.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, but his grip didn't loosen. "I can't stop it. It's inside me—it wants you, and I don't know how to fight it anymore."
Suddenly, he shoved me back—not hard, but enough to put space between us. His body trembled, as if something inside him was tearing its way out.
I stumbled against the wall, breath caught in my throat, heart racing.
"I'm losing control," he whispered. "I don't want to hurt you. Please… get away from me."
I didn't move. I couldn't. Even as fear rooted me in place, I saw him—really saw him. The torment behind his eyes. The way his hands shook, not with anger, but with restraint. Whatever was inside him, it was clawing to the surface.
Then his eyes flickered—just for a moment. The glow dimmed. He looked at me, truly looked at me, and whispered, "Help me."
Before I could answer, his knees buckled. He collapsed, convulsing.
"Lin Jian!"
I ran to him, catching him before he hit the floor. His entire body was wracked with tremors. His breath was ragged, his pulse erratic.
Zhang Li burst into the room, taking in the scene with wide eyes. "Move back," he said quickly, already kneeling at Lin Jian's side.
"What happened to him? You said he's healed?" I faced Zhang Li.
Zhang Li's hands holding a glowing sword. "A spirit," he declared, his voice filled with urgency, "has corrupted his soul." The revelation hit me like a physical blow. "A spirit," he repeated, his gaze locking onto me. Then, the truth unveiled itself, a cruel twist of fate. "You," he said, his voice low and steady, "are the one who is corrupting his soul."
"Me?" I breathed, my hands in where he lie, now shaking.
"He's dying, Yinuo," Zhang Lis voice was flat. The words was heavy and suffocating. "Your energy, its overwhelming him. Too much Yin, its poison to a mortal."
My heart pounded, a frantic drumbeat mirroring the terror that gripped me. Lin Jian, fading away? It couldn't be. "But what can I do?" I choked out, my voice cracking with despair.
He sighed, a weary sound that spoke of years spent battling against the inevitable. "This was bound to happen, Yinuo. Spirit natures...they're incompatible with humans. A year. He has a year left, and there's nothing I can do. The damage is done."
His words were a knifes, but as he spoke, a flicker of hope sparked in his eyes. "There is a way a chance. But its a desperate one." He brought out a worn, leather-bound book, its pages filled with strange symbols and script. "Within these pages, lies the knowledge to craft an artifact. A tool that could maybe, just maybe save him."
A year. A year to craft this life-saving artifact. The words echoed in my mind, a chilling countdown. I stared at the book, suddenly aware of a cold, sharp truth. This was my fate. I was trapped, just like the immortal in the mirror, condemned to watch my loved one die while I struggled against the impossible. It was cruel. Unfair.
But Lin Jian, his life, his smile, his laughter, it was all I had. Hope, flickering, yet refused to be extinguished. I would do anything, anything at all, to save him.
The book held secrets of rituals and sacrifices. My core, it demanded. My very essence, woven into the artifact. The thought of it was terrifying, the agonizing pain, but Lin Jian's fading breaths fueled my resolve.
He was dying, and I was crafting a lifeline, an artifact hope woven from my very soul. Each day, as the final hours ticked by, I felt myself getting closer, I went through pain and determination, a desperate prayer for a miracle.