This story will be renamed to "From Ice to Ashes" very soon, because I separated Feng Deming's subplot and will continue Deming's plot in "Ending the Era of the Faeries" which will also be renamed "Demon King's Love" soon. FITA is Ningshun-focused, whereas DKL or EtEotF is Deming-focused.
'What the—' Ningshun stopped dead. His breath caught, and a dry, rasping sound escaped his throat. Speechless—for what he witnessed had changed everything.
"Ah, finally," Meilin groaned as she pulled her shirt over her head. "Stupid, stupid bra!"
His power, the very essence of his spirit, shrank as if becoming one with the girl, dwindling in her heart space. He needed to act fast, or else—
'Wait. Did she—mention a bra?'
Brows lifted. He should not have heard that. Should not have noticed the way her tank top shifted, moving as if he were nothing but a shadow in the room.
Quickly, he turned away, facing a pink wall that mocked his gaze. "Zayn..." His stomach twisted. Yet, he held on, since the alternative was to witness what was happening behind him.
Images of a half-naked man plastered the wall, a muscular man—no, a fictional man—staring back at him. That smoldering gaze dared him to look longer, the cocky smirk that practically screamed 'her dirty little secret' in the most obnoxious way imaginable.
A smirk, brow raised. "Well, well. And here I thought she played for the competition. Turns out, it's for the... scenery." He glanced at his fingers, as if they mattered more. "Poor thing. If only she knew she could've aimed higher."
"Ahh—"
Ningshun's spine snapped straight.
The sound was... breathy. Soft. Indulgent.
A rustle of fabric. A slow, drawn-out sigh. "Mmm... oh, that's so much better..."
Fists clenched, breath pressed thinly through his nose. This was fine. It was nothing. He had endured pain, outplayed enemies, and walked through hell with a smile. A mortal girl undressing in the same room was inconsequential.
Or it should have been.
The soft click of a clasp. Straps sliding over skin. The whisper of tension releasing from her—unfiltered, raw.
'This wasn't part of the plan.' A muscle in his jaw ticked. 'Patience.'
The fabric shifting. The clothes hitting the floor.
She sighed. "Ah, yes... Yes, this is... what heaven feels like."
Ningshun was going to kill something. Himself, probably. That would be the fastest way out of this hell.
Meilin let out a slow, deep moan.
'What is she... doing?' His brain rejected the thought before it could fully form. He needed to get out. Now.
No! Not until he took what was rightfully his first. The problem was that she would be his teammate and live with him. Making a reckless move now could jeopardize his plan. So, he moved his hands to his ears, attempting to block out the sounds.
"God, I swear this thing shrunk in the wash... No wonder it suffocated me all day."
His thoughts blanked as her muffled voice still reached him.
Wrecked. Fingers curled at his sides, nails digging into his palms. Pierced. Pain flared through his skin. Good. He needed pain. He needed something to anchor him.
"I dealt with torture with more dignity than this," the whispers ended with a scoff. "Never have I been tested like this... I've survived forces beyond mortal comprehension and outsmarted enemies while drenched in blood... I'm a strategist. I have mastered myself!"
And yet, this was going to kill him.
"I swear, they're like half my body weight," Meilin groaned.
Ningshun choked on absolutely nothing. 'What!?' Blinking and frowning, his brow twitched as he let out a sharp exhale, as if his ears were offended.
Her mumbling about makeup remover was already testing his patience, but the impact of her loud giggles—paired with her even crazier chatter about dreaming of Zayn and how 'hot' he was, sank his mind into the pit of her... stupidity.
"ENOUGH."
Meilin's lips parted, but no sound came out—just a choked wheeze as terror wrapped around her throat like a noose. The makeup remover bottle slipped from her hand.
Someone was watching her... watching her undress!
Her shrieks pierced his mind with a frequency that burrowed deep into his brain, reaching its core and shredding his soul.
Her lungs fought for air. Her hands scrambled for her tank top, yanked it over her head, and almost strangled herself.
"Took you long enough," a deep, smooth voice murmured.
"WHO'S THERE!?" She grabbed the nearest thing—a hairbrush—and wielded it like a dagger. "I-I HAVE A WEAPON!"
'Dramatic, isn't she?' Ningshun tilted his head with a lazy smirk. 'How cute.'
As if he were the one at fault. As if he had trespassed into her world, not the other way around. She had no idea. No idea what she was facing. No idea what she had taken was so important to him. And yet, she demanded answers. As if she were not the thief... The audacity.
'She thinks she holds the power.' He shook his head, half a chuckle, half a sigh.
He could correct that misunderstanding—easily.
A brief pause. A moment of consideration.
Meilin would recognize him. If she realized who he was—her soon-to-be teammate, the professional Mid Laner with a strong reputation, it would complicate matters. Pity. He would have quite enjoyed the idea of watching her stumble and try to piece it all together.
But who said he could not have a bit of fun toying with her? As long as she did not discern his looks.
'But first, the portal to the abyss.' Lightning emanated from his palms, creating a hovering disc—a black hole, no larger than his palm. 'Once I take back my power, I'll go to the end of the abyss... and from there—' A slow grin. 'The right portal—to Parishahr.'
"WHERE ARE YOU?" Wielding her hairbrush, she glanced behind the curtains. "D-Don't tell me it's... a ghost..."
Ningshun's smirk deepened. 'Not a bad idea.' Snapping his fingers, the lights died.
It was already night.
She swallowed as darkness closed in on her. A whimper slipped from her lips. Her breath came faster—shallow, uneven. The silence suffocated her.
"Boo."
"Ah!" Meilin screamed—a total, throat-shredding cry—and swung the brush wildly, only to hit nothing. "Wh-Who said that!?" Whatever it was, it stood just inches from her ear!
In an instant, he teleported away from her. "If that ridiculous brush is a weapon, then I suggest you learn how to use it."
From the shadows, a chuckle. Smooth. Amused. Cruel.
Meilin gasped. "Y-You're..."
"Not human? A ghost? Or perhaps a figment of your imagination?" Ningshun tsked and let out a low chuckle. "I'd offer you a better view of my good looks, but it seems the lighting's a little... inconvenient for you. Shame, really. But go on, guess—I'm enjoying this."
She shot him a deadpan look. "Hold up—should I be freaked out right now, or is this just you giving your ego a workout?"
He teleported again, reappearing near the images of Zayn.
Oh, no. What if he was telling the truth? What if he was not... human? A ghost! No—impossible. He looked human. Or was she just losing her mind?
No. There was only one logical explanation. This had to be a dream. Nothing more. And yet, dream or not, he still made her nervous.
The dim moonlight from outside barely outlined his form—tall, broad-shouldered, and entirely at ease. He observed her like a wolf might watch a cornered deer, though it was too dark to discern specific details. Not even the basic contours of his face!
She backed away while clenching the brush, but lifted her chin. "S-Stay back! Or else I..."
"Or what?" he mocked, as if he were indulging a child throwing a tantrum. "You'll brush my hair?"
"I—I'll hit you!"
"Feisty." He crossed his arms, intrigued. "Come on, hit me."
Meilin threw the brush with all her strength—
Ningshun sidestepped lazily, the brush hitting the image of Zayn on the wall. He let out a slow chuckle. "Impressive aim... although Zayn may not agree."
She sucked in a sharp breath, pointing shakily at him. "How long have you been standing there!?"
"Long enough to appreciate your... struggles." He paused and smiled. "Sounds like quite the battle. Suffocating, was it?" He snickered.
She blinked, immobilized. 'He was there the whole time... the bra... getting naked... he saw. He saw! My God, he saw me...'
"Tragic, really. I was this close to offering my assistance."
Meilin's entire soul left her body. "YOU—YOU—" That jerk! That infuriating, egotistical creep! Why could she not respond? Instead, she felt paralyzed.
He laughed. Actually laughed. Low and rich, and infuriatingly amused.
"I hope you choke..."
Ningshun's smirk vanished. Eyebrow arched. "Choke? That's a bit exaggerated, don't you think?"
"You freak... Stalker. Jerk! You perv!" Her fists clenched.
Ningshun sighed as if this bored him. "What? Me? Yes, I am a jerk, I'll admit that. A freak? Well... that's a matter of perspective." He crossed his arms. "But a stalker and pervert? Not in a hundred years."
"You were here the entire time," she mumbled, a bit defeated.
Ningshun's lips barely turned into a smile. "I saw nothing, and if I were truly a stalker, I'd be much more... subtle." He moved toward her. "And as for why I'm here, well... let's just say I wouldn't waste my time without a good reason."
"Then, why are you here?" She took a shaky step back. "Are you here to... kill me?"
"Oh?" He stepped closer, cornering his prey. "If I were, you'd be dead already."
The disc grew to almost the length of an adult human—electricity around it.
His tone was... nerve-wracking. This was not happening. This could not be happening. Her chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. Something about the way he moved—graceful, patient, utterly confident—made her insides twist and her vision blur. A predator.
The walls felt suffocating. Claustrophobic. Praying for this nightmare to end.
He moved closer, but not enough for her to see his face in the dark. "I'm here to take back what is mine."
She blinked in confusion. "What is... yours? Did you lose something?"
He smiled—small, but with meaning. "Oh, yes. Something very precious to me."
"Uh, how do you know I even have it?"
His voice dropped lower, slipping through the dark like silk. "I know you do."
"But how? I—" She hesitated. Why did a guy from a dream even matter? "Whatever, just... tell me where you last saw it!"
Finally, he stood just close enough for her to make out his sharp jawline, the contours of a man who was all power and grace. He was not joking about his good looks, but it still was not enough to perceive anything more.
"What I want... is locked inside your heart. A part of me only you can hold," he murmured.
Tell me what you think and please give a like to help; I'll always appreciate it!
From Ice to Ashes - Copyright © 2023 by Aurora Luxi. All Rights Reserved.
ns18.189.184.40da2
然後按「加至主畫面」