The Race Against Time

In the quiet of the early morning, the room where Li Chen lay stirred with the faint scent of burning herbs. Zhang Mei sat beside him, her hands gently holding his as she watched for any sign of movement. The ritual herbs, designed to expel the dark magic from his body, filled the room with a thick, medicinal smoke, curling lazily through the air. Every breath Li Chen took was shallow but steady—a small improvement, yet a glimmer of hope.

Zhang Mei's eyes never left his face, watching for the slightest change. His brow twitched slightly, and for a brief moment, she thought she saw his fingers move. She held her breath, her heart racing. "Li Chen," she whispered, leaning closer, her hand tightening around his. "If you can hear me, keep fighting. The babies and I need you. We're waiting for you."