Yan stared at the man kneeling before her.
God of Death.
The title should have frightened her.
It did.
But not as much as his eyes.
Jin Liwei looked at her as if he had waited through centuries just to see her breathe again. His face was controlled, his posture steady, but his eyes betrayed everything — relief, guilt, longing, and a pain so raw Yan felt it before she understood it.
Her chest tightened.
No.
She took one step back.
The silver mark on her wrist burned.
Jin's gaze dropped to it immediately, and something like panic flashed across his face.
"Yan—"
"Don't."
Her voice came out sharper than she expected.
Jin stopped.
He did not rise. He did not reach for her again. He only remained on one knee, his head slightly lowered, as if making himself smaller would make him less dangerous.
It did not work.
He was still a stranger.
A stranger whose voice made her heart ache.
A stranger whose face had appeared inside her memories.
A stranger who had just called himself the man who failed to save her.
Yan pressed a hand against her chest.
"What does that mean?" she asked. "Failed to save me from what?"
Jin's jaw tightened.
For a moment, he looked like he had a thousand answers and hated every one of them.
"The fire was only the door," he said quietly. "Not the beginning."
Yan almost laughed.
Not because it was funny, but because her mind could not hold one more impossible sentence.
"The fire was only the door," she repeated. "Wonderful. I died in a burning library, woke up in a hall made of stars, found out I'm apparently some goddess, and now the God of Death is kneeling in front of me like we're in the middle of a tragic opera."
The corner of Jin's mouth moved, barely.
Then it vanished.
Yan saw it anyway.
That tiny reaction made something warm flicker inside her, so sudden and familiar that it terrified her more than the hall, the decree, and the dead voices combined.
She stepped back again.
"Don't look at me like that."
Jin lowered his eyes.
"Like what?"
"Like you know me."
Silence.
The bells outside continued to ring, deep and slow, shaking the stars beneath her feet.
Jin finally answered, "I do know you."
Yan's fingers curled around the fabric of her sleeve.
"I don't know you."
The words landed between them like a blade.
Jin accepted the wound without flinching, but his expression changed. Not anger. Not offense.
Acceptance.
That made it worse.
"I know," he said.
Yan hated that answer.
She hated the gentleness of it. She hated the way her chest hurt when he spoke. She hated that her body did not want to run from him even when her mind screamed that she should.
A sharp pain pierced through her wrist.
Yan gasped.
The silver mark flared. At the same time, the blood-red seal at Jin's throat brightened. A thin thread of light stretched between them, red and silver twisting together like two broken promises trying to become one.
Yan staggered.
Jin was on his feet instantly.
He stopped himself before touching her.
"Yan, listen to me. Don't fight the seal too harshly."
"Don't tell me what to do."
"I'm not commanding you."
"Then explain."
The thread pulled tighter.
Pain shot through Yan's chest.
For one awful second, she saw another place.
A dark chamber.
Chains covered in runes.
Officials in white robes watching from above.
Someone screaming.
No.
She was screaming.
Yan clutched her head.
The hall tilted.
"Stop," she whispered.
Jin moved then.
Not fast enough to frighten her, but fast enough to catch her before she hit the ground.
His hands closed around her shoulders.
The moment he touched her, the pain changed.
It did not vanish.
It split.
Half of it tore through Yan.
The other half struck Jin.
He sucked in a breath, his fingers tightening for only a second before he forced them to loosen.
Yan stared at him.
A thin line of blood slid from the corner of his mouth.
Her anger broke through the panic.
"What did you do?"
Jin wiped the blood away with the back of his hand as if it meant nothing.
"The Heaven Blood Seal reacted."
"That is not an answer."
"It shares pain."
Yan went still.
The words sank in slowly.
"You shared it?"
Jin did not deny it.
Yan looked at the red seal on his throat. It pulsed weakly, as if the pain had bruised it.
"Are you insane?"
A faint, tired smile touched his lips.
"You've asked me that before."
The familiarity of his answer struck her harder than the pain.
Yan's eyes burned.
She did not want to cry.
Not here.
Not in front of him.
Not in front of a man she did not remember but somehow missed.
Her body betrayed her.
Tears slipped down her face before she could stop them.
Jin's expression shattered.
"Yan…"
"Don't," she said again, but this time her voice trembled. "Don't say my name like that."
He looked as if he wanted to reach for her.
He did not.
That restraint undid her more than comfort would have.
The pain in her chest sharpened. Not from the seal this time. From the look in his eyes.
Love.
Guilt.
Grief.
A grief that had waited too long.
Yan pressed both hands over her heart.
"Why does it hurt?" she whispered. "I don't know you. I don't remember you. So why does looking at you hurt?"
Jin closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, they were calmer, but not colder.
"Because the soul remembers before the mind does."
Yan laughed once, broken and bitter.
"Tch. Of course it does. Very convenient for everyone except me."
Jin gave no defense.
Good.
If he had tried to make this sound romantic, she might have slapped him.
The golden decree above the empty throne flickered.
The hall darkened.
Then a cold voice echoed from outside.
"By order of the Official Palace, the awakened Goddess of Reincarnation is summoned to attend the emergency assembly."
Yan's body froze.
The word struck something buried deep inside her.
Summoned.
The stars beneath her feet vanished.
For one second, she was somewhere else again.
A hall full of divine officials.
White robes.
Smiling mouths.
Cold eyes.
A child's hands gripping her sleeves.
Someone saying, "It is only one more reincarnation."
Someone else saying, "Her suffering strengthens the realm."
A scream tore through her skull.
Yan stumbled back, breathing hard.
Jin's face changed at once.
This time, he did touch her wrist.
Only her wrist.
Only where the silver mark burned.
"Yan. Look at me."
She tried to pull away.
He let her.
That made her look at him.
His voice lowered. "You are not in that hall yet. You are here."
"Yet?" Yan repeated.
Jin's gaze darkened.
"The summons is real."
The cold voice outside continued, louder this time.
"The Official Palace requests immediate attendance. The matter concerns the curse placed upon Lu Tao Yan and the disturbance of the Heavenly Pact."
The curse.
The word opened another crack in her mind.
Fifty-five thousand, six hundred and ninety-seven.
Pain.
Deaths.
Lives she did not choose.
Officials watching.
Officials calculating.
Officials benefiting.
Yan's breath turned uneven.
"What curse?"
Jin did not answer immediately.
That told her enough.
"What curse, Jin Liwei?"
His name felt strange on her tongue.
His eyes flickered when she said it.
"The curse that forced you to reincarnate in place of the heaven-blessed officials your parents destroyed," he said. "The curse that made you remember only the worst pain from every life you lived."
Yan's stomach twisted.
The hall seemed too large. The air too thin.
"And they want me to attend a meeting about it?"
"Yes."
"Right after I died?"
"Yes."
Yan stared at him.
Then she laughed.
This time, there was no humor in it.
"What in the actual heavens is wrong with these people?"
Jin's expression turned dangerously cold.
"Many things."
The answer was so flat, so immediate, that Yan almost laughed again.
Almost.
But the fear was still there. It sat under her ribs like a blade.
"Why am I afraid of them?" she asked.
Jin's silence returned.
Yan already hated that silence.
He looked toward the open doors, where shadows moved beyond the hall. Messengers. Guards. Officials brave enough to approach but not brave enough to enter.
"Because the last time they gathered around you," Jin said, "they did not see a person."
Yan's hands clenched.
"What did they see?"
Jin looked back at her.
"A resource."
The word was quiet.
It was also brutal.
Yan could not speak.
Something inside her understood before her mind caught up.
Her pain.
Her deaths.
Her curse.
Power.
They had used her.
The thought made her cold from the inside out.
The silver mark on her wrist burned again, but this time the pain did not make her collapse.
It made her angry.
Yan slowly straightened.
The stars beneath her feet returned, one by one.
Jin watched her carefully.
Not proudly.
Not possessively.
Carefully.
As if he knew anger could hold a person together just as easily as it could destroy them.
The voice outside came a third time.
"Goddess of Reincarnation, the assembly awaits."
Yan turned toward the doors.
Her legs still trembled. Her heart still hurt. Her memories were still broken pieces of glass inside her skull.
But she was standing.
That had to count for something.
Jin stepped beside her, leaving enough space that she did not feel trapped.
"I can refuse them for you," he said.
Yan looked at him.
"You can?"
"Yes."
"Will that solve anything?"
"No."
"Then don't."
A strange look crossed his face.
Painful.
Fond.
Familiar.
Yan narrowed her eyes. "Stop looking pleased. I'm still terrified."
"I know."
"And I still don't trust you."
"I know."
"And if you try to carry me anywhere without permission, God of Death or not, I'll find out whether gods can be kicked."
For the first time, Jin Liwei truly smiled.
It was small.
Exhausted.
Beautiful in a way Yan did not want to notice.
"I'll remember that."
"You better."
Yan took one step toward the doors.
Then another.
The officials waiting outside fell silent as she appeared.
Jin walked beside her, not touching her, but the red and silver thread between their seals glowed faintly in the air.
Yan could feel his presence at her side.
Steady.
Dangerous.
Familiar.
And still not safe enough to trust.
Good, she thought.
Trust could wait.
Answers could not.
She lifted her chin and looked toward the path leading to the Official Palace.
"Fine," Yan said. "Let's hear what heaven wants from its dead goddess."