Chapter 14: The Hand That Was Never His

Jiàn Lian’s fingers brushed the frayed thread.

A sharp pulse ran through his body.

The world lurched.

And suddenly—

He wasn’t alone.

A hand—**small, cold, and familiar—**grasped his wrist.

Jiàn Lian’s breath caught.

"Mei Rin!"

He turned sharply, expecting to see her.

But the person holding his wrist was not Mei Rin.

A boy.

No—him.

A younger version of himself.

Jiàn Lian’s heart stopped.

The boy stared up at him with **his own face, his own eyes—**except they were empty, hollow.

"Stop," the boy whispered.

Jiàn Lian couldn’t move.

The thread of fate was still in his grasp, but his younger self’s grip tightened.

"Let go," the boy whispered again.

Jiàn Lian’s pulse hammered. "Who are you?"

The boy smiled.

And suddenly—

Jiàn Lian remembered.

A memory long buried.

A moment erased from fate itself.

The first time he had met Mei Rin wasn’t in this life.

It was in a life that no longer existed.

Jiàn Lian’s stomach twisted. "No. That’s not—"

The boy’s fingers dug into his skin.

"It is."

The world around them cracked, splintered.

Jiàn Lian’s mind reeled. Memories flashed before his eyes—

A different time. A different life.

A promise whispered beneath the lantern lights.

"If I die first, will you wait for me?"

Mei Rin’s voice, soft and full of warmth.

Jiàn Lian’s own voice, whispering back.

"Always."

But that life—it had been erased.

Jiàn Lian had made a choice.

A sacrifice.

He had bargained with fate itself—and lost.

Jiàn Lian’s breath came ragged. "This isn’t real."

The boy smiled wider.

"Then why do you remember?"

Jiàn Lian’s grip on the thread shook.

He had spent this entire time trying to save Mei Rin.

But—

Hadn’t he already failed once?

No.

No, this wasn’t right.

Jiàn Lian clenched his teeth. "If I lost her once, I won’t lose her again."

The boy’s expression darkened.

"Then you’ll break the world again," he murmured.

Jiàn Lian’s breath hitched.

The boy—**his younger self—**slowly lifted his free hand.

And Jiàn Lian saw it.

A second thread of fate.

One that should not exist.

His throat went dry. "What is that?"

The boy’s empty eyes gleamed.

"The thread of your erased life."

Jiàn Lian’s heart stopped.

This wasn’t just about Mei Rin anymore.

This was about everything.

The first Mei Rin. The first Jiàn Lian.

The life they had once lived—and the price they had paid to erase it.

Jiàn Lian’s mind reeled.

Had fate truly erased that life?

Or had it been waiting—twisting, unraveling, waiting for him to remember?

His fingers trembled over the frayed thread.

If he pulled it—

If he chose to remember—

What would come back?

Jiàn Lian exhaled.

And then—

He pulled.

The world shattered.

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