The first thing that greeted Qing MingYu as he woke from his slumber was the memory of pain, the feeling of claws against his bones. His flesh torn asunder before being stitched back together.
He felt like was set ablaze with fire. Burned to ash before he was forced to reawaken like a phoenix.
Copper filled his senses, making him want to gag. The scent of rot was there, but it was slowly fading - like an aftertaste still lingering on his tongue, lining the back of his throat.
His lids felt like they were weighed down with lead, too heavy for him to lift.
His body was stiff, limbs locked in place. Soft blankets were stacked beneath his body, smooth fabric resting against his fingertips.
He was lying on a bed.
Steps sounded close by and soon the bed shifted. Wood wailed miserably as a heavy weight sat down beside his arm.
"… MingYu…"
ZhiYi?
