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Summary
Dan Heng rarely gets sick.
He never expected sickness to come, actually. As his body had sustained harsh conditions, weathers, explosions—and even the vivid memory of the dark chambers surrounding his frail, malnourished body—starving him of light, of warmth, of basic necessities. Hands of the past gripping his ankles, harsh enough for him to feel the chill of it years later, stopping him from feeling whole—constantly running, despite everyone around him telling him there’s nothing to run away from—could he ever understand himself?
Could his mind ever stop? For once showing care towards himself instead of wandering around incidents of the past? Dan Heng thought about the sheer boredom of this cycle, until a voice echoed near awoke him from the tangle of his mind—Blade's voice.