Chapter 5: The Fabric of a Lie

Jiàn Lian could do nothing but watch her unravel.

Mei Rin’s form shredded like silk caught in a storm, her body breaking apart into flickering threads. Strands of pale light twisted into the air, pulled toward an unseen force—as if the world itself was rejecting her.

No. No. No.

Jiàn Lian lunged forward, his arms wrapping around her, trying to hold her together.

Mei Rin’s fingers clenched his robes, her breath ragged. She was still here. Still solid—but barely.

Her lips trembled as she choked out, “Jiàn Lian… I don’t belong.”

Jiàn Lian’s chest tightened. “That’s not true.” His grip tightened around her fragile form. She was here. She was real.

He refused to let her disappear.

The silk-veiled woman’s voice was calm, but unyielding. “She was never meant to be.”

Jiàn Lian’s head snapped toward her. “Lies.” His voice was a growl, raw with fury. “She was my fate. I saw the red thread. I followed it.”

The woman stepped closer, and with a single motion of her hand, the world shifted again.

Threads of fate reappeared—not as they were before, but tangled, knotted, distorted.

And then, Jiàn Lian saw it.

His own thread—frayed, broken, and woven around something that should not exist.

Jiàn Lian’s breath caught.

Mei Rin had no thread.

There had never been a red string tying them together.

He had followed a thread, yes—but it had not belonged to her. It had belonged to him.

Jiàn Lian’s vision blurred. Had fate lied to him? Had the gods played a cruel trick?

Or worse…

Had he forced Mei Rin into existence?

The silk-veiled woman’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Five years ago, something unnatural occurred.”

Jiàn Lian could hardly breathe.

“The moment Mei Rin’s thread unraveled, fate tried to erase her,” she continued. “And yet… she remained.”

Jiàn Lian shook his head. “She was never gone.”

“She should have been.” The woman’s silk-covered eyes did not waver. “But something interfered.”

Jiàn Lian’s pulse pounded violently in his ears.

Something?

No.

Someone.

His body trembled. His hands—the same hands that had grasped at a broken thread five years ago, that had searched for an answer—had they… forced fate to bend?

His own thread was tangled, twisted into something it was never meant to be.

Had he refused to let Mei Rin disappear?

Had he broken fate itself?

Mei Rin’s voice was weak, barely a breath. “Jiàn Lian… I’m… fading.”

No.

His grip on her tightened. He would not lose her.

Even if it was his fault.

Even if she was never meant to exist.

Even if holding onto her meant unraveling the very fabric of fate.

“I won’t let you go,” Jiàn Lian whispered, his voice breaking.

Mei Rin’s trembling fingers brushed his cheek. She was crying.

“…But you have to.”