The morning sun broke slowly over the mountain ridge, brushing the village rooftops with a weak, golden light. Snow still clung to the corners of the earth, stubborn in the shadowed places, but the air felt thinner today—less cruel.
Shen Yi sat outside the storehouse, sharpening a worn blade. It wasn't his. Nothing he used truly belonged to him—not the clothes he wore, not the name the villagers gave him, not even the hands that held the blade.
He still didn't know who he was.
But he knew this:
She had called him a destroyer.
And somehow, that felt more honest than anything else.
His fingers paused on the blade's edge. He glanced toward the hill beyond the well, where she had stood yesterday. Where she had told him she hated him. Where she had said he destroyed her.
Her voice still echoed in his ears.
He didn't expect to see her again so soon.
---
But Yan Xue was already watching.
She stood near the plum blossom tree again, cloak drawn tight, eyes cold.
She hadn't slept. After the soul-binding incense, her dreams had twisted into knots—images of the past bleeding into the present, overlapping like broken glass.
She saw her father's final breath.
She saw her younger sister screaming.
She saw Shen Yi's smile—not the soft one from now, but the one from back then. The cruel one. The one right before he left her in ashes.
But then—
She saw the boy standing quietly in the snow, eyes lowered, guilt written across every line of his face.
It wasn't the same person.
But it was the same body.
The same soul.
She couldn't forgive him. She wouldn't. But something inside her ached at the sight of him, like her own body betrayed her.
---
"Still watching him?" a voice said behind her.
She didn't turn. "You're late."
Su Yao stepped beside her, brushing snow from her boots. Her robe was travel-worn, streaked with road dust and faint traces of blood. But her eyes were as sharp and bright as ever.
"I came as soon as I confirmed the talisman spike," Su Yao said, lowering her voice. "So it's true. He's alive."
Yan Xue nodded.
Su Yao exhaled. "Does he remember?"
"No."
Su Yao frowned. "Then what's the plan?"
Yan Xue didn't answer.
Su Yao looked at her, eyes narrowing. "Don't tell me you're hesitating."
"I'm not."
"Then why haven't you brought him back to the sect?"
"Because he's still mine."
The words were quiet. Cold. But heavy.
Su Yao raised a brow. "Yours?"
Yan Xue turned finally, meeting her gaze. "His life ended when he killed my family. This one—this version—belongs to me now. I'll decide when and how it ends."
There was no anger in her tone. Only ice.
Su Yao didn't argue. She just sighed. "He still looks at you like you're the only thing in the world."
Yan Xue's expression didn't change. "That's the point."
---
Later that day, Shen Yi helped the village carpenter carry timber to the watchtower. His hands were steady, his steps sure. He was strong—stronger than any normal man his age—but no one questioned it anymore.
They just called him "Quiet Shen."
He liked the silence. It gave him space to think.
To remember.
But the memories never came fully—only feelings. Regret. Guilt. Longing.
And her face.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her again.
You don't get to wish.
You don't get to forget.
He wanted to ask her why.
Why she hated him so much.
Why she hurt so deeply when she looked at him.
And why he felt like he was the one who should be crying.
---
When he returned from the hilltop, she was waiting for him.
Not at the well this time.
At the river.
Again.
Like fate wanted them to keep returning to the same place—where truths had been half-spoken and hearts half-exposed.
She stood beside the frozen stream, cloak fluttering in the breeze. Her hair was tied back today, revealing the full line of her jaw and the quiet anger that always simmered in her gaze.
He approached slowly.
"You came back," he said.
"I never left," she replied.
"You always speak in riddles."
"You always ask too many questions."
He stopped beside her, a few steps apart. Enough distance for tension to breathe. Not enough for it to vanish.
He looked at her, hesitating. "I meant it yesterday. I'm sorry."
She didn't reply.
"I want to know the truth," he said. "About what I did. About what happened."
"You will," she said. "When it hurts enough."
His brow furrowed. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because you deserve it."
"And if I said I want to make it right?"
She turned to him. Her voice was quiet. But sharp.
"You can't fix what you buried in ash."
He looked down.
Silence.
Then she added, softer, "Even if I wanted to forgive you… I couldn't."
He looked at her again.
"…Do you want to?"
That stopped her.
She didn't answer. Not with words.
Instead, she stepped forward. Slowly. Deliberately. Until she stood just inches from him.
She reached up.
Touched his chest—right over his heart.
He froze.
Her fingers were warm, but the look in her eyes was cold.
"Does it beat?" she whispered.
"…What?"
"Your heart. Does it still beat, Shen Yi?"
He blinked. "I—I think so."
"Then prove it."
She pulled her hand away.
Turned.
Walked into the trees.
----
The sky darkened slowly over the hills. A copper-red band stretched across the horizon as the last of the sunlight slipped behind the trees.
Shen Yi walked the village path with no clear direction. Every footstep echoed like a question he couldn't answer. His mind was still full of her—of her words, of the weight behind her eyes, and of the cold touch she'd left on his chest.
"Even if I wanted to forgive you… I couldn't."
"Then prove it."
What did it even mean to prove a heartbeat?
What was he supposed to do when the only thing he had left was guilt he didn't remember earning?
---
A rustle in the distance pulled his attention. Near the foot of the shrine path, someone stood leaning against a tree, arms crossed.
A woman, her posture casual—but her eyes sharp as a sword.
Su Yao.
She hadn't spoken to him in five years.
And she hadn't expected to speak to him like this ever again.
"You've grown taller," she said.
Shen Yi stared at her. "Do I know you?"
"You used to," she said, pushing off the tree and approaching him.
He studied her. Familiar—but distant. Like a dream that vanishes after waking. Her eyes, however, held something piercing, something too knowing.
"…Who are you?"
"Su Yao. We trained in the same sect. Scarlet Immortal Sect. You were three years older than me. I was the one you always beat at sword drills."
He blinked. "I… don't remember that."
"I didn't think you would."
He looked away.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Su Yao gave a tired smile. "You keep saying that."
"I mean it."
"I know you do," she said. "But back then, you wouldn't have."
Shen Yi frowned. "What kind of person was I?"
Su Yao didn't answer right away. She turned her head, watching the darkening sky.
"You were brilliant," she said finally. "Sharp. Ambitious. You wanted to be the youngest Core Formation cultivator in the sect's history. You laughed too loud. You trained too hard. You never stayed still."
"…Was I kind?"
Su Yao paused.
"…Sometimes. But not always."
That hit harder than it should have.
He swallowed. "And to her?"
"To Yan Xue?" Su Yao's voice grew quiet. "You were everything to her."
That stopped him.
Su Yao looked directly at him now. "She trusted you more than anyone. You were her anchor. Her shield. Her… dream."
Shen Yi felt a chill spread under his skin. "And I ruined that."
"Yes," Su Yao said softly. "You shattered it."
Silence.
He looked at the earth beneath his feet. "Why didn't she kill me?"
"She could have," Su Yao replied. "But she didn't."
"Why?"
"You'll have to ask her that yourself."
Shen Yi clenched his fists. "Do you think I deserve to live?"
Su Yao gave him a long, unreadable look.
"I think," she said slowly, "you're still here for a reason. I think maybe you need to carry something before you can answer that question yourself."
Then she turned, stepping back into the trees. But as she walked, her voice drifted over her shoulder:
"And I think you should be careful. Because her heart is sharper than any sword now. And you taught her where to aim."
---
The forest trail was steep, but Shen Yi followed it anyway. The world had grown darker, the moon still veiled by drifting clouds. Cold crept in again, pressing against his skin, but he didn't slow down.
He knew where she'd be.
And he was right.
She stood alone on the hilltop, back facing him, hair loose and rippling in the wind. Her sword was planted in the ground beside her. She didn't turn when she heard him.
"You're persistent," she said quietly.
"I'm sorry."
"You've said that too many times," she murmured.
He stepped closer, then stopped a few paces behind her.
"You came to me," he said. "Now I've come to you."
Yan Xue didn't move.
"I talked with someone today," he added. "Su Yao."
That made her spine stiffen.
"She said you… once trusted me more than anyone."
Silence.
"And that I destroyed that."
More silence.
Then, very softly:
"She didn't tell you everything."
"…No?"
"She didn't tell you that before the destruction came the love."
Her voice was steady, but her hands clenched at her sides.
"She didn't tell you how much I believed in you."
Shen Yi swallowed.
"You told me," she said, voice sharp now, "that I made you feel calm. That I was your moon when everything else turned black. You told me I was the reason you hadn't fallen."
"I believe that," he whispered.
"You were lying," she snapped.
He flinched.
"I watched you bathe in the blood of my family," she continued. "I watched you burn the courtyard where I used to practice calligraphy. I watched you tap my cheek… and walk away."
She turned now. Her eyes glistened with fury—and something else.
"You smiled when you did it."
He didn't speak. Couldn't.
"But now," she hissed, stepping closer, "you come to me with empty eyes and ask for meaning?"
She stopped just in front of him.
"I could kill you, you know," she said. "Even if you're immortal, I could make it hurt. Every day."
"I believe you."
She stared at him.
Then something in her expression shifted—just slightly. Her jaw loosened, her gaze dipped, and her voice fell to a whisper.
"…But I didn't."
He looked at her.
"Why?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I don't know."
A lie.
But neither of them said it.
Her hand reached toward him—but not to strike. Just a slight movement, like she was reaching for something she couldn't admit she still wanted.
She stopped herself.
Pulled away.
"You don't get to show me kindness now," she said.
"I'm not."
"You don't get to act like you care."
"I don't know how not to," he replied.
That made her eyes narrow.
She turned.
Began walking into the dark.
And this time, she didn't look back.
---
Shen Yi remained on the hilltop.
The wind brushed past him, gentle but cold.
He didn't move.
Because her words still hung in the air—like the ghost of a blade that hadn't been swung.
"Before the destruction came the love."
He didn't remember that love.
But now he wondered if it was still buried somewhere beneath the ashes.
And if it was…
Maybe it was the only thing left worth finding
End of Chapter 3