I pressed my advantage, my voice softening slightly, allowing a carefully measured amount of my true feelings to show. "Father, you know Arya and I grew up together. We have been friends since childhood. An alliance built on that foundation will be a hundred times stronger than one built on my sister's fleeting charms. You know this." I let a hint of vulnerability enter my eyes. "And you have seen how I feel about him. Please, Father. For the good of the family, and for my own heart, I ask you to propose my name."
He stared at me for a long time, his gaze searching my face. He saw the iron resolve, the unshakeable determination, and underneath it all, the deep love he knew I had always held for the Chen Family's genius. He had seen me watch Arya from afar for years, his heart aching for his quiet daughter. He let out a long sigh, a sound of resignation and paternal affection.
"The heart of a cultivator should be clear of such attachments," he murmured, more to himself than to me. Then he looked at me, a decision made. "But a heart that is true is a foundation stronger than any stone. Very well, Meira. I will send the proposal to the Chen Family. For your hand in marriage to their son."
Relief, so potent it almost buckled my knees, washed through me. I had done it. I had changed the most critical event.
"Thank you, Father," I said, bowing deeply.
Later that day, after the formal proposal had been sent, an unbearable restlessness seized me. I needed to see him. I needed to see with my own eyes that he was real, that he was alive, that this second chance was not some cruel dream. I made my way to the Chen Family Estate, a place I knew as well as my own home.
I found him in the central garden, standing under the ancient willow tree, his back to me. He looked exactly as I remembered him from this time, a young man on the cusp of greatness, the pride of his family shining around him like an aura. But he seemed troubled, a weight on his shoulders that I knew all too well.
I approached quietly. He turned, and our eyes met. "Arya," I said, my voice softer than I intended. I saw the lingering intensity in his expression, the look of a man wrestling with a heavy burden. "Is everything alright? You look as though you carry a great weight."
My concern was genuine, a reflex born from a lifetime of love.
He looked at me, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something new in his eyes, a sharpness that hadn't been there before. But then his expression softened. "Father just shared some heavy news about the family's situation," he replied, his voice even. "It is good to see a friendly face."
My heart skipped a beat. A friendly face. The Arya of my past life, at this stage, had already begun to drift away, his focus consumed by his own ambition. He was never unkind, but he was distant. This Arya… this was different. He was looking at me, really looking at me. His acknowledgement was so warm, it felt like the sun breaking through a lifetime of clouds. I felt a faint blush touch my cheeks and quickly composed myself, chiding my own foolish heart.
Is this it? I thought, a wild hope blooming within me. Did my actions in changing the proposal already alter the course of fate? Is the Heavenly Dao itself giving me a sign?
"The Chen Family is strong," I said, my voice filled with a conviction born from the depths of my soul. "And the Su Family will always stand with you. Do not forget that."
"I won't," he said, and his gaze grew more intense, piercing right through me. "I will not forget that."
The moment hung in the air between us, charged with a meaning so profound I couldn't begin to decipher it. It felt like a vow. He was seeing me. He was acknowledging me. For the first time, it felt like he truly saw me.
I gave him a small confused nod, my mind reeling from the encounter. I offered a polite farewell and departed, leaving him alone under the willow tree.
As I walked away from the Chen Estate, my composure, so carefully maintained in his presence, finally began to crumble. My heart was a maelstrom of emotions. The rage and grief from my rebirth were still there, a venomous fire simmering beneath the surface. But battling against that inferno was a aching longing that was so powerful it made my knees weak.
Ten years. In my soul, it had been ten years since I had last seen him like this—alive, vibrant, his golden core thrumming with power, not shattered and broken. A decade of mortal life is an age.
Every instinct, every fiber of my being that remembered that world of regret, screamed at me to run back. To throw my arms around him, to hold him tight, to feel the warmth of his living body and assure myself this wasn't some cruel illusion conjured in my final moments. The urge to hug him was a physical pain, an ache that started in my chest and spread to my fingertips. I wanted to bury my face in his shoulder and weep for the lifetime I had lost, for the love I had failed to save.
But I held myself back, my nails digging into my palms. I had to. The man I just spoke to was the Arya of this life, a friend who had grown a little distant, a young genius consumed by his own path. If I had acted on the desperation of a ten-year-old soul, he would have thought I'd lost my mind. He would have pushed me away, and that fragile warmth I saw in his eyes, that precious change in his demeanor, might have been extinguished forever. No, I could not risk it.
So I walked on, forcing one foot in front of the other, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. That spark of hope I felt was the soul-shaking relief of just being able to see him again. The future was still a treacherous path, filled with the shadows of Jin Hao and my sister. But Arya was different. And seeing him, alive and whole, was a treasure I thought I had lost for all eternity. It was a miracle that made all the pain of my past life worth bearing.
This time, I would not fail him. This time, we would face the storm together.