The snow had melted slightly overnight, softening into slush that clung to boots and soaked through straw sandals. Villagers trudged through the half-thawed morning, muttering curses about the weather and sharpening their axes on stone. Winter was stubborn this year.
But none of that mattered to Shen Yi.
He stood behind the stable, shirt discarded, hands stained with pitch and wood sap. The cold didn't bite him. It hadn't since the day he woke beneath the cliff. It was as if his blood had forgotten how to freeze.
But his mind… his mind had begun to burn.
That girl.
Her voice.
Her eyes.
The way she'd looked at him yesterday—like she was staring through him, past skin and bone, into a wound he didn't know he had.
He hadn't seen her again since. She hadn't returned to the healer. No one knew her name. No one in the village claimed her.
But he remembered her voice.
"I know what you are."
The words repeated like thunder behind his eyes.
He dipped his hands into the freezing trough and scrubbed the dirt from his palms, ignoring the sting. When he looked up, his own reflection rippled back at him—sharp eyes, straight nose, jawline carved by time and pain he couldn't remember.
He was… handsome. That much the villagers had said in whispers. Some joked he looked like a prince carved from jade. Others said he looked like a spirit wearing a mortal shell.
He didn't care.
Because no matter how perfect the surface, the inside was empty.
---
At the edge of the village, beneath a frostbitten plum tree, Yan Xue watched him in silence.
She'd returned just before dawn, careful to leave no prints in the snow.
She hadn't meant to come back so soon. She'd told herself it was just reconnaissance. A few words. A test.
But now she stood there, rooted like the tree behind her, unable to look away.
The years had changed him. His frame had hardened. His face had matured. His eyes—once arrogant, laughing, dangerous—were now calm. Empty. Searching.
It would've been easier if he still looked like a monster.
Instead, he looked like the boy she had once whispered to under moonlight. The boy who once plucked a phoenix flower and gave it to her without words. The boy who had touched her cheek, right before leaving her world in blood and ash.
And yet… this man had no trace of that boy's cruelty. Not anymore.
But she remembered everything.
And she would not let him forget.
---
"Excuse me—miss?"
Yan Xue turned slowly.
The old healer stood behind her, leaning on her staff. Her eyes were clouded but keen.
"You've been standing here since before first bell," she said. "I assume it's not because you like the scenery."
Yan Xue offered a small bow. "I'm just watching someone."
"I can see that," the old woman said dryly. "And if you're planning to kill him, I suggest doing it before lunch. Less cleanup."
Yan Xue didn't answer.
The healer sighed. "You're not the first one to come looking for vengeance, you know. But that boy… he's not what he used to be."
"No," Yan Xue whispered. "He's not. That's the problem."
---
Later that day, Shen Yi was sent to chop timber with a group of laborers on the western ridge. It was slow, heavy work, but he welcomed it.
It gave him something to focus on—something other than the girl's voice in his mind.
They worked until sunset. By the time he returned to the village, his clothes were soaked and his knuckles raw. He was halfway to the storehouse when a voice stopped him.
"You missed dinner."
He turned.
She was standing beside the well, arms crossed, cloak drawn tightly around her shoulders.
Shen Yi's heart jumped without warning.
"You—" He caught himself. "You're still here."
She raised a brow. "Did you expect me to vanish like a ghost?"
"No," he said quietly. "But I don't know your name."
"Good."
He blinked.
"I don't plan on giving it."
He took a step closer, hesitated. "Why are you following me?"
"I'm not. I was here first."
Shen Yi let out a breath. "Then… why do I feel like you know me?"
Yan Xue looked at him for a long time. Her eyes flickered with something unreadable—hurt, rage, maybe both.
Then she turned and began to walk.
He followed.
---
They reached the edge of the frozen river. The wind was softer here, muffled by trees. Snow crackled under their boots.
Shen Yi stopped beside her, hands in his coat sleeves. "You don't have to talk to me. But I'd like to understand."
"Understand what?"
"Why you looked at me like that yesterday. Like you hated me."
Yan Xue didn't answer for a long time.
Then she said, "I did."
"…Did?"
"Do."
He swallowed hard.
She turned to face him fully. "You don't remember anything, do you?"
He shook his head.
"Not your name. Not your past. Not the people you left behind."
"No."
"Convenient," she said again, and this time the word carried weight.
"I want to remember," he said quietly. "I want to know what I was. What I did. If I was a good person—"
"You weren't."
Silence.
Shen Yi didn't flinch. He didn't even argue. Just stood there, the cold forgotten, eyes on her face.
"…Did I hurt you?" he asked.
Yan Xue smiled faintly, but there was no warmth in it.
"You destroyed me."
He looked away.
"I'm sorry."
She blinked, startled. "…What?"
"I'm sorry," he repeated. "Even if I don't know what I did. Even if I never remember. I can feel it. That ache inside you. The way your eyes shake when you look at me."
She stared at him. The wind whispered through the trees. Her hands clenched at her sides.
"I don't want your apology," she said.
"I know."
"I want you to suffer."
He nodded.
"I already am."
---
The river flowed quietly beneath its crust of frost, a soft gurgle breaking through thin ice where the current still resisted the cold. In the dying light, everything looked washed in silver—serene, almost peaceful.
But peace was a lie here.
Yan Xue didn't move. Her heart, though cold, beat heavily. Too heavily.
She hadn't meant to say it.
"You destroyed me."
She hadn't planned to let that slip. The words were supposed to come later, during the reveal, sharpened and calculated—driven like a dagger straight into the cracks of his heart.
But the moment he'd asked…
The moment he'd looked at her with such open, confused pain—
Something had given way.
She hated it.
Hated that he wasn't laughing. Hated that he wasn't mocking her like before.
Hated that the man before her looked broken in a way she couldn't enjoy.
Shen Yi still stood there, not asking for more. Not defending himself.
His head bowed slightly, arms loose by his sides. As if he were ready to take whatever came next.
She stepped toward him. One step. Two.
He looked up—his eyes shadowed, but not afraid.
"Say my name," she said.
"…What?"
"Say it. Say the name you used to whisper under the stars."
"I… don't know it."
"You used to say it like it was a promise."
"I wish I could remember."
"You don't get to wish," she said, voice shaking. "You gave that up when you—"
Her breath caught. Her hands curled into fists.
"Do you really not remember what you did to me?"
Shen Yi stared at her, chest rising and falling.
"…No," he said quietly. "But I know I must have hurt you more than anyone else ever has."
Her throat clenched.
He added, softer, "And I know I don't deserve your forgiveness."
"Good," she spat, though her voice wavered.
She turned away from him, walking toward the river's edge.
Just walk away, she told herself.
You said what you needed to.
That's enough for now.
But she stopped halfway.
"…You were laughing," she said suddenly. "That day."
He looked up.
"When the fire caught. When my father fell. When my sister screamed. You were laughing."
His heart thudded in his chest. He couldn't see it. Couldn't remember. But he could feel the echo of it—like an old scar vibrating under skin.
"I didn't mean to leave you alive," she added. "You know that? You weren't merciful. You were careless."
"I believe you."
She whipped around. "Why aren't you angry?"
"Because I agree with you."
"That I should hate you?"
"Yes."
She stared at him, jaw clenched.
Then why does it hurt so much when you say it back?
---
They stood in silence.
For a long time.
The sun slipped behind the mountain ridge, and cold dusk settled into the trees.
Eventually, Yan Xue exhaled. "Go back to your village."
"Will I see you again?"
"…Maybe."
"Should I hope for that?"
She didn't answer. Then—
"No. You shouldn't."
---
Shen Yi did not sleep that night.
He sat beside the fire in the storehouse, staring at the flickering flames, haunted not by what he'd remembered—but by what she had.
Her words echoed louder than any memory could.
You destroyed me.
You were laughing.
You didn't mean to leave me alive.
He pressed a hand to his chest, expecting to feel something burning.
There was nothing.
But he remembered the look in her eyes. The shaking in her voice.
And that was worse.
---
In the woods beyond the village, Yan Xue knelt before a small flame of her own—one made not of firewood, but of soulthread incense, lit only by those seeking clarity.
The smoke curled upward in a spiral, dancing through the frost.
She held a lock of black hair in her hand.
His hair.
One strand, stolen from the storehouse days ago.
She whispered an incantation under her breath, words forbidden by her sect, bloodline-linked to her ancestors.
The incense flared crimson.
And a whisper slid through the air like a blade through silk:
"The soul is still whole… but wounded. Lost. You may tether it, if you dare."
Yan Xue's fingers tightened around the hair.
Tether it…
To tie his soul to her vengeance.
To keep him close, whether he remembered or not.
To never let him escape the pain he caused—or the girl he left crying in the ruins.
She took a breath. Steeled herself.
Then fed the strand of hair into the flame.
It hissed. The smoke turned black.
---
Far away, back in the storehouse, Shen Yi gasped—his breath caught in his throat as if a rope had pulled tight around his lungs.
His chest burned.
He stumbled outside into the cold, coughing, hands grasping at his shirt.
There was nothing there.
But he could feel it—
Something had just bound him.
And though he didn't know what it was…
Part of him wasn't afraid.
Part of him whispered:
It's her.