The scent of pine smoke lingered in the morning air.
Yan Xue walked alone through the outer fields, her boots crunching against half-frozen grass. She hadn't slept—not deeply. Dreams pressed at her like thorns: a house in flames, blood on her hands, her mother's voice calling her name through smoke.
She didn't believe in ghosts.
But the past haunted her anyway.
---
The wind picked up as she reached the hill where the snow had begun to thaw. The sky overhead was gray and still. She knelt at the edge of a worn trail and laid down a strip of white silk, brushing the frost away with her sleeve.
She lit three incense sticks and bowed.
One for her father.
One for her mother.
One for the sister whose name she never said aloud anymore.
As the smoke curled upward, her heart burned quietly beneath her ribs.
She had not come to mourn.
She had come to promise.
"I've found him," she whispered.
The incense flared slightly.
"I will make him remember what he did. And I will make him feel everything he took."
The wind answered with silence.
But she knew they were listening.
She stood slowly, cloak shifting behind her like shadow.
And she walked back down the hill, her face calm, her hands steady, her hatred folded neatly behind her smile.
---
In the village, Shen Yi tried to focus on simple tasks.
He cleaned the well bucket, repaired a broken gate hinge, swept the courtyard stones with care. The routine gave him something to hold. Something to be.
But every now and then, the world tilted.
Someone's voice would echo too loud.
A child's laugh would turn sharp.
A reflection in the water would flicker—showing red eyes instead of his own.
He didn't trust mirrors anymore.
He barely trusted himself.
"I want to believe I'm different," he thought.
"But what if I'm not?"
That question clawed at him more than her hatred ever could.
---
From a distance, Su Yao watched them both.
She'd stayed longer than she intended.
She had reports to send, elders to answer, duties to resume.
But she couldn't leave. Not yet.
Something was happening beneath the surface—something deeper than memory loss or bloodlines.
And then there was the scroll.
"The Demon Heart still beats."
She turned the words over and over in her mind, comparing them to the boy who helped patch leaking roofs and cooked porridge for orphans.
This Shen Yi didn't feel like a threat.
And that was the real danger.
---
In the capital, the Qin Ancestor stood before a sealed chamber deep beneath the palace.
He pressed his palm to the jade door, and the runes flickered awake—old, blood-bound symbols that hadn't stirred in generations.
The room opened slowly.
Inside, in the center of the circular floor, was a stone altar covered in chains.
And on that altar—
A single red crystal pulsed like a living heart.
The Ancestor stepped forward. His breath grew cold.
"We locked away the source of it," he whispered.
"But not the bearer."
He reached into his sleeve and removed a talisman etched with golden ink. He burned it with a flick of his qi.
Above the crystal, the smoke curled.
And in the smoke—briefly—appeared a figure with crimson eyes and silver veins.
Shen Yi.
Still alive.
Still cursed.
The Ancestor clenched his fist. "We made a mistake letting the Scarlet Sect deal with it."
A voice behind him rasped, "Do you want her dead too?"
The Ancestor turned slowly.
A woman stepped from the shadows—tall, cloaked in mourning black, her hair woven with silver thread. Her eyes were ancient and unblinking.
Empress Dowager Qin.
And the great-grandmother of Yan Xue.
"I want the curse ended," the Ancestor said.
She nodded once. "Then let her finish what we could not."
---
Back in the village, Shen Yi sat near the stream, watching water trickle between melting stones. The air smelled of thaw and old pine.
He thought of her again.
The way she looked at him without blinking.
The silence between her words.
The fire in her stillness.
And yet—
He didn't feel afraid of her.
He felt pulled to her. Not just by guilt, but by something deeper.
Something that lived beneath guilt. Beneath pain.
Something like a thread that refused to break.
---
And in the forest beyond, Yan Xue watched him through the trees.
"He doesn't remember me," she thought.
"But I remember everything."
She touched the hilt of her sword.
"And I'll remind him. Even if it tears me apart."
---
Night returned quietly.
The stars blinked through a cloud-thinned sky, casting silver reflections across the shallow stream behind the village. Lanterns flickered low near the inn, and the villagers' voices faded one by one behind shuttered doors.
Only two figures remained beneath the trees.
Shen Yi sat with his back against a crooked willow, eyes half-closed, listening to the wind ripple through the leaves. Sleep wouldn't come. His thoughts were a tangled mess of things he didn't know and feelings he didn't understand.
Then—
A shadow crossed the path ahead.
He opened his eyes.
Yan Xue.
She stepped silently across the stream, boots not even stirring the water. She wore no cloak tonight—just her inner robe, tightly belted, her hair pulled back into a warrior's knot. Her sword was at her hip, but her hands were empty.
She didn't speak.
She didn't need to.
He stood up slowly. "You're back."
Her gaze sharpened like drawn steel. "I never left."
Shen Yi held her stare. "Then why do you keep hiding?"
"Hiding?" she scoffed, voice low. "I've been standing right in front of you, Shen Yi. You're the one pretending not to see."
He lowered his eyes.
"I see you," he murmured. "I just don't know what you want from me."
She stepped closer. "You're lying."
"No."
"Yes," she hissed. "Because if you truly didn't remember—if the past was really gone—you wouldn't be looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you already know what you did."
Silence.
The tension between them pulled tight as a bowstring.
He didn't reply. Couldn't.
She walked closer, slow, deliberate, until they were nearly chest to chest.
"I watched you slaughter my entire family," she whispered. "And now you flinch when I raise my voice? You—who walked through flames with red eyes and laughter on your lips—can't even meet my gaze now?"
Shen Yi's voice cracked. "I don't remember it."
"Then remember this," she spat, "I was sixteen. I hid in a cupboard under my sister's bed. I heard you snap my father's spine like it meant nothing. I heard my mother beg. And I heard my little sister scream until she couldn't anymore."
His knees weakened.
"I wasn't… I'm not that person now."
"Then where did he go?" she snarled. "Did he just dissolve? Die conveniently with your memories?"
"I don't know!" he shouted.
His voice echoed across the trees.
Birds startled and fled into the sky.
Yan Xue didn't move.
Her eyes, so cold, flickered just for a moment. A hesitation. A crack.
Then it was gone.
"You deserve every curse your name carries," she said.
"I believe that."
"But I'm not here to curse you."
He looked up at her, confused.
She took another step forward and leaned in close—so close he could feel her breath at his cheek.
"I'm here to bind you."
He stiffened. "What do you mean?"
She smiled faintly, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"I'm going to make you fall in love with me again."
Shen Yi's heart stopped.
"I'm going to let you believe you've been forgiven," she continued. "I'll hold your hand. I'll share your burdens.
She paused, almost gently.
"And then… I'll make sure you break."
He stared at her, horror blooming across his face.
"Why?" he whispered.
She touched his face—just lightly, mockingly.
"Because death is too merciful."
Then she turned and vanished into the woods, her cloak sweeping the air behind her like a blade through smoke.
---
He stood frozen beneath the willow.
The cold wind whispered between branches, but he didn't feel it.
His chest ached. His hands trembled.
Not from fear.
Not from anger.
From sorrow.
He had hurt her so deeply…
That even love had become a weapon in her hands.
And he…
He couldn't blame her.
---
Elsewhere, high in the peaks of the Scarlet Immortal Sect, alarms sounded beneath a moonless sky.
A disciple burst into the hall of records. "Elder Han! We've received an urgent scroll—from the Azure Phoenix Sect!"
The elder opened it with shaking hands.
As his eyes scanned the text, his breath caught.
"The Immortal Demon has awakened."
"The Blood Echo has spread."
"The princess of Qin walks with him."
Han dropped the scroll.
The room grew still.
"…So it begins again," he whispered.
---
Back in the quiet valley, Su Yao watched the smoke rise from a cooking fire, arms folded tightly around herself.
She had heard voices in the trees—Yan Xue's and Shen Yi's. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop. But she had.
And now, she didn't know which one of them to fear more.
Shen Yi, whose hands had once painted rivers with blood.
Or Yan Xue, whose revenge might destroy both of them.
And yet…
She still couldn't bring herself to send the report.
Not yet.
Not while the thread between them still burned with so much pain… and something too fragile to name.
---
End of Chapter 5