Wen Ran could feel the malice emanating from two of the three young women who had carried him out. The animosity between them was palpable, their disdain for him as clear as the cold chill that hung in the air. He was all too familiar with the eternal struggle between ice and fire—two opposing forces, constantly at odds, yet bound to exist side by side in this world. It was a balance of contradictions, and he couldn't help but feel the tension in the air as the icy resentment from the women grew stronger.
"I think we've carried you far enough," one of them sneered, her voice sharp like an icicle. "You can walk on your own now, you dog." Her jet-black hair and eyes gleamed with the coldness of winter, and she shoved Wen Ran aside, wiping her hands as if she had touched something filthy.
