Chapter 8: The Hollow Path

Jiàn Lian woke to the sound of rain.

It pattered softly against stone, soaking through his robes. The scent of damp earth and cold air settled around him, grounding him in the present.

He was no longer in the void.

Slowly, he lifted his head.

He was kneeling at the entrance of the Temple of Threads, the same place where his journey had begun. The towering silk banners still fluttered in the wind, the same pale glow of woven fate threads dancing above them.

As if nothing had changed.

But everything had.

Jiàn Lian’s hands curled into fists. Mei Rin was gone.

Not dead. Not lost. Just… erased.

The memory of her fading before his eyes seared into his mind. The way she had whispered his name. The way she had smiled, even in her final moment.

"Thank you," she had said.

For what?

Jiàn Lian’s breath shook as he forced himself to stand. His body felt heavy, as if something had been ripped away from him.

No red thread guided him anymore. No fate pulled him forward.

He had broken the fabric of destiny for her. And in the end, he had been left with nothing.

The doors to the temple creaked open.

Jiàn Lian didn’t turn. He didn’t need to. He already knew who it was.

The silk-veiled woman stepped beside him, silent.

He clenched his jaw. “Why did you send me back here?”

She did not answer right away. Instead, she raised a single hand.

Threads whispered in the air, shifting subtly. Jiàn Lian watched as fate continued to weave around him. Without him.

A hollow feeling settled in his chest.

“…She never existed,” he muttered, voice hoarse.

The woman tilted her head slightly. “And yet, you remember her.”

Jiàn Lian’s breath caught.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

She was right.

If Mei Rin had truly never existed, then he should have forgotten her the moment fate corrected itself.

Yet—he hadn’t.

Her voice, her touch, her final smile—he still remembered it all.

Jiàn Lian turned sharply toward the woman. “Why?”

The veiled figure remained still. “Because fate does not erase love.”

His pulse pounded.

Jiàn Lian had spent five years breaking destiny to bring Mei Rin back. He had fought against the gods, tangled his own thread, and defied everything sacred.

And even though he had lost…

His love for her remained.

“…Then what am I supposed to do now?” Jiàn Lian whispered.

The woman was silent for a long moment.

Then, softly, she answered—

“You choose.”

Jiàn Lian stared at her.

The temple loomed behind them, full of untouched fates. The world around him moved forward without him.

For five years, he had walked a path shaped only by Mei Rin. Every breath, every thought, every step had been taken in pursuit of her.

And now, that path was gone.

For the first time in his life, Jiàn Lian had no destiny. No fate.

No one waiting for him at the end of a red thread.