Slam. The doors locked themselves.
Linh stared. Then, for the first time in a thousand years, he laughed. ------- Ma Cung di Se Duyen Bl
“I am terrified,” Phong admitted, clutching his poetry book. “But your calligraphy set is very high quality. May I borrow it after I die?” Then, for the first time in a thousand years, he laughed
“Gladly. But first, another kiss.”
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: May I borrow it after I die
The palace hummed. Lanterns lit themselves one by one, revealing a long, red-carpeted hall. But instead of ghosts jumping out, a brush and inkstone floated toward him. A silken scroll unrolled, with elegant, chilling words: “Ngươi có duyên với chủ nhân nơi này. Hãy viết lời thề kết tóc. Nếu không, vĩnh viễn không được ra.” (You share a fate with the master of this place. Write a wedding vow. If not, you shall never leave.) Phong blinked. “I… I’m a broke scholar. I don’t even have a wife. Or a husband, not that I’d mind, but—wait, master ?!”
The candles flickered.