The Weight of Truth
Snow fell softly outside the window.
Each fragile flake drifted slowly through the cold air, settling quietly upon the silent rooftops of the sect. The world outside seemed peaceful, untouched by war or grief.
But inside the room, peace did not exist.
Xiao Yan sat on the edge of his bed.
His body was still, yet his hands trembled uncontrollably, fingers tightening and loosening as though he were trying to hold something invisible together.
His shoulders were heavy.
It felt as if the weight of the entire world had fallen upon them.
The room was silent.
Then LuQi spoke.
"You've regained your memories," he said carefully. "That's good news."
His voice was calm, but concern lingered beneath it.
"What do you remember then?"
Xiao Yan did not answer.
He kept his gaze fixed on the floor, unmoving.
A single tear slid slowly down his cheek.
LuQi frowned.
"Why… why are you tearful?" he pressed, impatience creeping into his voice.
Before Xiao Yan could respond—
Mi-An stepped forward.
Her expression was gentle, yet heavy with unspoken sorrow.
She slowly knelt beside him.
The silence deepened.
Then Xiao Yan spoke.
"You knew!"
His voice cracked sharply, the sound almost breaking apart as it left his throat.
"You knew!!"
Mi-An lowered her eyes.
"I'm sorry."
Her answer was soft.
Too soft.
"You knew he was my father!" Xiao Yan groaned.
His hand clutched his chest desperately, as if he were trying to hold his heart together before it shattered completely.
"The Ansha was my father… and Nem…"
His voice trembled violently.
"Nem was my enemy."
He looked at her with pain burning in his eyes.
"Mi-An, you knew!"
She could not meet his gaze.
"I'm sorry," she whispered again, her voice choked with guilt.
"I killed my own father."
The words escaped him like a wound being torn open.
Tears flowed freely down his face now—hot, relentless.
Mi-An reached toward him instinctively, her hand trembling as she tried to comfort him.
But Xiao Yan pushed her away.
"Let go…" he said weakly.
His voice carried exhaustion deeper than anger.
"I want to be alone."
Mi-An froze.
The pain in his voice cut deeper than any blade.
Slowly, she stood.
Without another word, she turned and walked out of the room.
Outside the doorway, she stopped.
Her chest tightened painfully as she felt the depth of Xiao Yan's suffering.
But she knew she could not stay.
She left quietly.
Behind her, LuQi stepped out of the room as well.
He looked at her gently and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Mi-An," he said softly, "take good care of him."
She nodded weakly.
"You… thank you," she replied, her voice trembling.
The hallway suddenly felt unbearably cold.
Her strength collapsed beneath the weight of everything that had happened.
She sank slowly to the floor.
The stone beneath her felt like ice.
Tears streamed down her face as the cruel reality of the world pressed down upon her.
Inside the room—
Xiao Yan sat alone.
His head lowered.
His voice broke the silence in shattered whispers.
"Father…"
The word trembled like a wounded breath.
"Father!!"
His fists clenched tightly.
"Father!!!"
His voice cracked completely.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Tears fell onto the floor.
"Father… I've failed you…"
His shoulders shook as the grief consumed him.
"Father!!!"
Outside the window, the snow continued to fall.
Flake after flake drifted silently past the glass.
Like a quiet memorial.
For the Ansha.
For the past.