The corridor had grown quiet.
Old houses settled differently after midnight. During the day they carried footsteps, conversation, the scrape of chairs across stone. At night they seemed to breathe through their beams instead, every faint creak becoming part of a language only the house itself understood.
Qiū Huà Bǐ had only come looking for tea. He already knew which floorboards complained under his weight and which didn't. Two days in the Yè residence had been enough to teach him that much.
He stepped around one loose plank. That was when voices reached him. They weren't loud, just enough to be heard.
He recognized Yè Yī immediately. Something in his voice made Qiū stop. It wasn't anger. Yè Yī rarely raised his voice. It was something tighter than that.
He remained where he was. Not because he meant to listen but leaving now would have made more noise than staying.
Inside the room, Yè Yī still hadn't sat down. The tray of food rested untouched on the table behind him.
Violet stood a few steps away, studying him with the same quiet attention she gave everything that mattered.
Neither of them spoke but the silence between them wasn't awkward, it was waiting.
Violet watched him for a while before standing. She crossed the room without hurry and stopped beside him. Then, gently, she placed a hand lightly on his shoulder. The gesture was so ordinary it almost disappeared.
Qiū Huà Bǐ had known her only a short time, yet even he would have noticed how unusual it was. Violet wasn't someone who reached for people. Which made the touch heavier than words.
"It's best you don't keep searching."
Her voice was quiet. Not cold, just quiet.
Yè Yī's shoulders stiffened.
"It hurts."
Yè Yī's fingers curled once before relaxing again.
His first thought rose almost immediately.
'Who are you to decide that?'
But she hadn't sounded as though she were deciding anything.
"You know what happened?"
"I know enough."
He looked at her. She sounded as though she'd already watched someone walk that road.
"So you expect me to leave it alone?"
"I expect you to think first. The truth you'll find..."
She paused.
"...will make you ask questions
Yè Yī didn't reply.
Violet continued anyway.
"Was it all fake..? A lie?"
His breathing caught almost imperceptibly.
"Was everything I believed wrong?"
His jaw tightened.
Each question landed exactly where it should. Each one deeper than the next.
Then came the last one.
"Why did I keep waiting?"
His fingers curled slightly.
The room fell quiet.
Those weren't guesses. Those weren't questions she was asking him. They were questions he had been asking himself for four years.
Violet gave his shoulder a small pat.
Not to comfort him... Just to let him know she understood.
'I know this weight.'
Yè Yī lowered his eyes.
He'd always told himself he'd stopped searching because there were no leads.
That sounded better than the truth.
The truth was...
he'd been afraid of finding one.
Outside the room, Qiū Huà Bǐ frowned.
Four years.
Someone disappeared.
Someone Yè Yī still couldn't let go of.
Pieces without a picture.
He leaned very slightly toward the half-open door. This wasn't curiosity anymore, it was concern.
Violet withdrew her hand.
Whatever had surfaced between them settled again beneath still water.
Then, almost casually—
"So... You still want to become sworn siblings?"
Yè Yī blinked. The change of subject came so naturally that it took Yè Yī a moment to follow.
"...Yes."
She tilted her head.
"How do you do that?"
He stared. Her expression carried no trace of teasing. She genuinely wanted to know.
"You... don't know?"
"I know what it is."
She shrugged lightly, her eyes meeting his.
"I don't know how people actually do it."
Yè Yī looked at her for another second before answering.
"We kneel."
"Both people?"
"Yeah."
"Together?"
"Together."
"In front of?"
"Heaven and Earth."
"Why?"
"So the oath isn't witnessed by just us."
She nodded.
"And then?"
"We make the vow."
"What kind of vow?"
"...To treat each other as family."
She tilted her head.
"Family without blood?"
"Yes."
"No ranks..? Hierarchy?"
"Only if both people agree."
"No inheritance?"
"Usually not."
Silence settled while she considered every answer.
Then she spoke almost to herself.
"So... It's family you choose. Like... chosen family"
Yè Yī nodded once.
"...That's one way to describe it."
"Hm.. Interesting."
"Why?"
She leaned lightly against the table.
"Where I come from..."
She searched for the simplest words.
"...people don't really get to choose family."
Yè Yī looked at her with genuine uncertainty.
There it was again.. That feeling.
There were moments when Violet spoke like someone his own age.
There were others—
like now—
when she sounded like she'd lived through customs no one else remembered, somewhere completely different from everyone else.
After a while he asked,
"So... you weren't saying you wanted that?"
She shook her head.
"No."
A tiny smile appeared.
"You misunderstood."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"...Looks like I did."
Outside the room, Qiū Huà Bǐ's eyebrows lifted.
Wait... He thought she wanted to become his sworn sister?
That would have explained more than it should have.. Or perhaps less.
Inside the room, Violet spoke again.
"If someone already has a sworn sibling..."
She let the question hang.
"...can another replace them?"
The answer came before he even thought about it.
"No."
"Not even years later?"
"No."
"Why?"
The answer came before he thought about it.
"You don't replace family."
Only after speaking did he realize how completely he believed them.
The room fell silent again.
Violet watched him for several moments. Then she nodded.
"Good."
"...Good?"
"That's all I wanted to know."
She didn't explain. She didn't need to.
Because the answer hadn't been for her. It had been for him.
Yè Yī looked at her for a long moment.
"...You ask strange questions."
"So I've been told."
Outside, Qiū Huà Bǐ finally stepped away. He'd heard enough. The tea didn't seem important anymore. As he disappeared down the corridor, one thought refused to leave him.
Whatever Violet knew... she wasn't changing Yè Yī. She was pulling him back toward a part of himself he'd locked away years ago.
Whether that road ended in healing—
or another wound—
none of them could tell yet.
Only the old house remained silent. As though it had heard conversations like this long before any of them were born.