The night air in Lu Shaohua's chamber was quiet, save for the faint sound of soft cloth brushing against skin.
The moonlight poured through the wooden lattice window, painting Wei Ji's tired face in silver. His eyes were distant, unfocused, as if trapped somewhere deep inside his own thoughts.
Lu Shaohua sat before him, silent, her hands steady as she wrapped fresh white bandages around his palms. The burns and gashes ran deep, seared by the violent backlash of his failed spell. The faint smell of medicine filled the air.
Wei Ji's gaze was fixed on his own trembling fingers. His breathing was calm, but his mind was far from it.
"How could I fail?" he whispered under his breath, almost not realizing he had spoken aloud. His voice was low, rough, almost hollow. "The pattern was perfect. My meridian flow was balanced. The formula followed every principle of Qi resonance… so where did I go wrong?"
