ZHAN SHENG LAY IN bed, his body weak and his mind clouded with the aftereffects of his devil's blood back lash. Everything had swarmed him until dark spots danced before his vision and before he could think the ground was rushing up to meet him. The disciples had gotten him back to his room and his father called for a healer. Zhan Sheng could barely breathe around the dagger in his chest.
Zhan Sheng stared blankly at the ceiling. He had heard the sound of a pipa in the distance, its melancholy notes echoing through the night like the cry of a wounded bird. He closed his eyes and let the music wash over him, feeling the weight of his unrequited love for Lei Bo pressing down on his chest like a boulder. It was as if his heart had been shattered into a thousand pieces, each one stabbing him with pain.
