His mother's grave

Six days had gone by since Xiran had been imprisoned. When the door of the basement opened and the White-haired butler came in. 

Xiran was still lying with his face down. One of his legs was making a right angle with the other. Half of his face and hair were caked with dried-up blood. The black veins protruded all over his body and face. 

He opened Xiran's tied-up hands and hoisting him up on his shoulder, took him to his old room. He laid him down on his bed and went to get some blood for him to drink. 

Bringing a one-liter bottle he lifted Xiran's head and poured it into his mouth. Xiran's eyes slowly opened as blood made its way into his system. He clutched the bottle tightly and gulped down the whole bottle.