------- Ma Cung Di Se Duyen Bl -

Phong kissed him. Deep. Desperate. Willing. The curse broke. The labyrinth did not vanish—it became a home. Villagers later whispered that Ma Cung now glowed with warm lanterns, and from within came two voices arguing over poetry:

Linh’s lips quirked. “Is it working?” ------- Ma Cung di Se Duyen Bl

The palace showed Phong his deepest wish: not fame or gold, but a warm hand holding his while reading poetry under a peach tree. The illusion placed Linh beside him, softer, mortal. Phong almost surrendered. Then he noticed—the phantom Linh had no poetry book. “Real Linh would mock my bad verses,” Phong said. “You’re fake.” The illusion shattered. Phong kissed him

A cold breath brushed his ear. Then, a voice—low, teasing, and ancient—whispered: and ancient—whispered: The candles flickered.

The candles flickered.