The grandfather clock ticked with quiet precision, the golden glow of the lamp painting soft shadows on the bookshelves. Leng Xuanmo stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable.
The door creaked open.
Leng Yumo stepped in, her dark sweater oversized, sleeves nearly covering her fingers. A lollipop stuck in the corner of her mouth, but there was no playful glint in her eyes tonight.
"brother" she said softly.
Xuanmo didn't turn. "You should be asleep."
"I couldn't," she said, voice thinner now. "It's too quiet. She's not here anymore."
He remained still.
Yumo walked closer, pulling the lollipop out of her mouth. "Do you miss her?"
A beat of silence. Then another.
"…Yes," Xuanmo said finally.
Yumo's eyes dropped to the floor. "Then why did you let her go?"
He turned now, slowly, and looked at his sister—so young, but suddenly so heavy with emotion. "Because I did something I can't take back. And she deserved the truth."
"You did it for me," she said, barely a whisper. "Because I cried about being bullied. I didn't even give you a name…"
"And yet," he replied, voice low, "that was enough."
Yumo's throat tightened. "You ruined everything. Her name. Her life. Her family."
"I know."
"Do you think she'll ever forgive us?" she asked, staring up at him, eyes glistening.
"I don't expect her to," Xuanmo said calmly. "But I'll protect her from afar, even if she never looks back."
Yumo turned away, voice shaking. "She looked happiest when she left us behind."
And this time, *Xuanmo had no answer.
The door clicked shut softly behind Leng Yumo, her footsteps fading down the corridor.
Leng Xuanmo stood still by the window, unmoving, shadows crawling across his face. The silence of the room wrapped around him—dense, suffocating.
The door creaked again.
He didn't look back.
"She's right, you know."
The voice was soft, low—but sharp enough to cut through his thoughts. He turned, slowly, to see *Madam Leng* step inside. Draped in her usual pale silk robe, her silver hair pinned with quiet elegance, she carried herself with grace and calm authority.
"Grandmother," he said quietly.
She shut the door behind her. "You've always done what needed to be done. No matter the cost."
Xuanmo said nothing.
Madam Leng approached the table, trailing her fingers along its polished surface. "Even as a boy, you carried this family's weight without complaint. We let you. We leaned on you. But power… is not permission."
She stopped in front of him.
"Ruining the Lu family was not justice, Xuanmo. It was grief. You avenged your sister's tears with someone else's life."
His jaw tightened. "I protected her."
"Did you?" Her gaze didn't waver. "Or did you teach her that vengeance is the Leng way?"
A beat.
"Yumo still cries for Jingyan," she added. "She cries in silence, like you do."
He looked away.
Madam Leng sighed. "That girl loved this family—fiercely, even when she had every reason not to. And now she's gone. Because of us. Because of you."
Xuanmo's voice was hoarse. "I know."
She stepped closer and placed a hand on his arm.
"Then fix it. Not with power. Not with force. With humility." She paused. "And patience. If she ever looks back… let her see a man who regrets losing her."
She turned to leave, then glanced over her shoulder.
"And Xuanmo… next time you choose to protect someone, don't destroy someone else to do it."
The door clicked shut behind her.
And for the first time in a long while, Leng Xuanmo was alone—with nothing but the weight of his choices.