The courtyard was silent again.
The spiritual beast had vanished, swallowed by the shadows between worlds, but the memory of its shriek still clung to the air. Lian stood in the center, her hand trembling, her breath ragged. The glow that had erupted from her chest had faded—but not from Shengzhi's memory.
He was still holding her wrist. His grip was firm, grounding her, but his eyes... they weren't just worried. They were terrified.
"Let go," she whispered, not meeting his gaze.
"You nearly awakened it again," he said, voice low. "Your power—Lian, you don't understand what it means."
She pulled her arm back. "Then explain it to me! I'm tired of half-truths, of dreams I can't remember and names that aren't mine!"
Shengzhi's mouth opened, then shut again. A war raged behind his calm expression. She had seen him silent before, but never like this—never like he was afraid of the words themselves.
"I can't," he said finally. "Not yet."
She laughed bitterly. "Of course you can't."
Lian turned away, clutching the side of the balcony as the moonlight cast soft silver across the tiles. Her body still tingled from the energy that had risen inside her—like fire licking through her veins, like something ancient trying to remember itself.
Behind her, footsteps. Hesitant.
"I wanted to protect you," Shengzhi said quietly. "But maybe I've only made things worse."
She didn't reply.
The silence stretched. Then—
"You glowed again," came a second voice, light and amused.
Lian turned sharply.
Li Fang stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes fixed on her with something unreadable in their depths.
"How long have you been watching?" Shengzhi asked, cold returning to his tone.
"Long enough," Li Fang replied, walking slowly into the moonlight. "You're lucky she didn't burn this whole mountain down."
Lian flushed. "I didn't mean—"
"I know," he interrupted gently. "You weren't in control."
She blinked at him. That wasn't mockery in his voice this time. It was concern. Real, unguarded concern.
"You felt it too, didn't you?" he asked. "That something inside you… remembered."
Her lips parted, but no words came.
Li Fang stepped closer. "You don't have to face it alone. Whatever you're becoming—whatever you were—I don't care."
Shengzhi stiffened.
"I do," Li Fang continued, eyes not leaving hers. "I care about you, Lian. Not your power. Not your past."
And just like that, she couldn't breathe again.
---
That night, Lian sat alone on the rooftop above her quarters, knees tucked to her chest. She had barely spoken after Li Fang left.
Two boys. Two truths. And none of them hers.
Shengzhi wanted to protect her. Li Fang wanted to stand beside her. But neither could quiet the storm rising in her chest.
As she tilted her head back, a soft wind stirred the peach blossoms. Somewhere in the distance, bells rang faintly across the mountain.
And then—like a whisper carried by the breeze—a voice echoed again in her memory.
> "Yue Lian… even if time breaks us, I will find you again."
She clutched her chest.
That name again. That promise. And a feeling that tugged at her soul, deeper than memory.
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To be continued...