Dawn crept across the camp, veiling tents in muted gold as mist clung to the ground. Inside, He Yan quietly helped Mei gather her few belongings—a cloak, a flask, simple garments. Mei's movements were weak but determined, a fragile calm settling over her.
"Are you ready, Xinyi?" He Yan's voice trembled with emotion. She nodded, unsure, but managed, "Yes… Father." The word brought tears to his eyes.
Outside, Zian watched from the shadow of a pine, his face unreadable but his gaze fixed on Mei. Every step she took weighed heavy in his chest; he yearned to comfort her but remained silent, the memory of her tears twisting inside him. If a gentle lie gave her peace, he would bear the cost.
At the camp gate, a carriage awaited. He Yan steadied Mei, helping her inside as she glanced back—almost searching, though she did not see Zian. The driver cracked the reins; the carriage rolled away.
Zian stood motionless, his eyes following the carriage until it vanished. Only then did his fist tighten, pain and resolve burning within. Quietly, he vowed, "No matter where fate leads, Mei… you are not lost to me."
The camp returned to life, but Zian remained standing, knowing this was only the beginning of a bond tested by destiny.