On the other side of the city, Jian laid down on the creaky hotel bed, his body limp from exhaustion. The thin mattress dipped beneath him, groaning as if sharing his weariness. His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, where an old fan rotated in lazy circles. The blood loss had left him dizzy, floating between numbness and sleep, but he couldn't let himself drift off—not yet.
His skin still shimmered faintly with dried golden blood. Every movement tugged at him, every breath reminded him he was not normal—not human.
Across the room, his grandfather sat on a low stool, a towel in hand, gently wiping Jian's arms. The water in the basin beside him had already turned a soft, metallic hue. The old man's wrinkled fingers were steady, though his eyes held a deep, unspoken concern.
"I'll take a bath, Grandpa," Jian murmured, voice husky and tired. He reached out gently, removing the towel from his grandfather's hand and offering him a small, comforting smile.
