Chapter 6: The Cost of Defying Fate

Jiàn Lian plunged into darkness.

Not the kind that came with night, nor the kind found in shadowed alleys. This was a void, an emptiness beyond existence.

His lungs burned, yet he was not drowning. His body fell, yet there was no ground.

And then—

A whisper.

"You should not have done this."

Jiàn Lian’s eyes snapped open.

He was standing in a vast, threadless space. The air was thick, dense with something unseen. Around him, broken fragments of silk floated like drifting ghosts—remnants of a fate that no longer existed.

And at the center of it all, Mei Rin knelt on the ground.

Her body flickered between form and nothingness, pieces of her dissolving like unraveling thread. She clutched her arms, her expression twisted with pain.

Jiàn Lian rushed to her side. “Mei Rin!”

She lifted her head.

Tears streaked her pale cheeks. “It hurts.”

Jiàn Lian’s chest tightened. “I’ll fix this.”

But even as he spoke the words, he felt the truth settle like iron chains around his heart.

There was no fixing this.

He had defied fate, woven a reality where Mei Rin should not exist.

And now, fate was taking her back.

Behind him, a soft footstep echoed.

The silk-veiled woman stood at the edge of the void, her robes untouched by the unraveling world.

“This is the cost,” she said. “Fate does not forget.”

Jiàn Lian’s fists clenched. “Tell me how to stop it.”

The woman’s voice was quiet. “There is only one way.”

Jiàn Lian held his breath.

"Let her go."

The words slammed into him like a dagger to the heart.

No.

No.

There had to be another way. He had spent five years searching, breaking the fabric of reality itself to find her. He would not let fate take her from him again.

Mei Rin’s trembling fingers reached for his. She was fading faster.

“…Jiàn Lian.”

His breath hitched.

She was smiling.

Faint. Fragile. But real.

And it broke him.

Jiàn Lian shook his head violently. “Don’t smile like that. Don’t—don’t say goodbye.”

Her fingers tightened around his, what little strength she had left.

“I was never supposed to be here,” she whispered. “But… for a while, I was.”

Jiàn Lian’s throat burned. “That wasn’t a mistake.”

Her smile grew softer. “It was.”

Jiàn Lian squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel her slipping through his grasp, her warmth fading, her form dissolving.

The silk-veiled woman stepped forward. “If you hold on, the threads of fate will collapse further,” she warned. “The world itself will unravel.”

Jiàn Lian’s breathing was ragged. None of that mattered.

He had lost her once. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—let it happen again.

But then—

Mei Rin let go of his hand.

Jiàn Lian’s eyes snapped open. Her fingers were already vanishing.

Tears streamed down her face, but she was calm.

“…Thank you,” she whispered.

And then—

She was gone.

Jiàn Lian’s hands clenched around empty air.

The silence was deafening.

Fate had taken her back.

And Jiàn Lian, who had spent five years breaking fate to bring her back, could do nothing but kneel in the void she left behind.

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