Chapter 10: A Ghost That Shouldn’t Exist

Jiàn Lian’s breath froze in his throat.

Mei Rin stood at the end of the corridor.

But she wasn’t supposed to be here.

The world had erased her. Fate had reclaimed her. He had watched her dissolve into nothing.

Yet—

She was here.

Draped in white, unmoving, her dark eyes locked onto his.

Jiàn Lian’s pulse hammered.

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

“…Mei Rin?”

The name barely left his lips, a whisper carried by the silence.

The figure twitched.

Not a step. Not a breath. Just the faintest shift, like a puppet adjusting its strings.

Jiàn Lian’s stomach twisted. Something was wrong.

He took a slow step forward. The temple air was thick, pressing against him like unseen hands. The scent of burnt silk lingered, a reminder of the unraveling fate threads.

And yet—she remained.

"...Did you forget me?"

Her voice was soft. Too soft.

Like a memory spoken through shattered glass.

Jiàn Lian clenched his fists. His heartbeat was a war drum against his ribs, each pulse screaming at him to run.

But he didn’t.

Because despite the fear clawing at his chest, despite the impossibility of her presence—

He couldn’t turn away.

"You're not real," he whispered.

Mei Rin tilted her head.

Her hair spilled over her shoulder, strands drifting unnaturally, as if caught in a current only she could feel.

"...Then why can you see me?"

Jiàn Lian stiffened.

The air grew colder. The unraveling threads around them flickered, as if resisting her presence.

"You disappeared," he said, his voice tighter now. "Fate erased you. This isn’t possible."

Mei Rin stepped forward.

Not walked. Stepped.

As if testing the ground beneath her feet.

Jiàn Lian did not move.

She was close enough now that he could see the faint shimmer around her body—a distortion, like a reflection in broken water.

Mei Rin lifted a hand.

Jiàn Lian’s breath hitched as her fingers reached toward his face.

And then—

She stopped.

The space between them was paper-thin, yet she did not touch him.

"...You really did forget me," she murmured.

Jiàn Lian’s throat burned. "No. I didn't."

Mei Rin smiled.

But it was wrong.

A sorrowful, hollow thing that did not reach her eyes.

And before he could speak again—

Her form flickered.

Jiàn Lian’s stomach dropped.

The threads of fate around her shuddered violently, bending as if her presence was disrupting reality itself.

A sharp whisper cut through the silence.

"She should not be here."

Jiàn Lian’s eyes snapped up.

The silk-veiled woman stood behind Mei Rin, watching. Unmoving.

Her voice was quiet, but her presence was heavy, pressing against the walls of the temple like a silent storm.

Mei Rin’s form flickered again.

Her fingers curled into trembling fists.

"...Then why am I?" she whispered.

The air cracked.

Jiàn Lian barely had time to react before a violent tear split through the space beside them.

The unraveling threads snapped, twisting wildly as if trying to pull Mei Rin away.

She gasped, staggering backward, her body coming apart like fragile silk.

Jiàn Lian lunged forward.

"Mei Rin—!"

But as his fingers brushed hers—

She vanished.

Gone.

Again.

And Jiàn Lian was left standing in the empty corridor, his hand still outstretched, his heart pounding in his ears.

The silk-veiled woman exhaled softly.

“She was never supposed to return.”

Jiàn Lian’s breath was ragged. He turned sharply toward her.

"Then why did she?"

The woman was silent.

And then, in a whisper, she answered—

"Because something else pulled her back."

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