Night fell slowly over the mountain path, casting long shadows through the whispering trees. The stars came out one by one, a scattered map above the campfire Wuyin and Yujin had made beneath an outcrop.
Wuyin sat with her blade unsheathed across her knees, silently wiping it clean. Each movement was methodical, deliberate — the kind that came from years of repetition.
Yujin watched her for a while, then said, "Do you always clean it like that?"
"Always."
"Even if it didn't draw blood?"
Wuyin nodded. "It's not about blood. It's about habit. Precision. Discipline."
Yujin smiled faintly. "You really were an assassin."
Wuyin looked up, one brow lifting. "You don't seem surprised."
"You told me before and I never bothered to ask. And now, you told me again… but now I believe you."
A silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable, but filled with unspoken thoughts.
As Wuyin wiped the blade, her gaze drifted briefly to the fire — and for a breathless moment, she saw four figures kneeling beneath hanging lanterns. One girl's voice echoed softly in her ear:
"Don't forget me."
She blinked. The image was gone.
A low breeze passed through the trees.
Yujin leaned back against a smooth stone. "I wonder what kind of life you would've had if you hadn't died."
Wuyin's eyes darkened slightly. "A short one."
"But maybe you would've met someone there too?"
"I never looked," Wuyin said. "There was no time for things like that." She paused. "And now… I don't want to look back."
Yujin's voice dropped. "Then what do you see when you look at me?"
Wuyin's hand stilled on the blade.
"A light," she said. "One I never thought I'd see."
The crackling fire between them flared briefly.
Yujin's gaze softened, and she reached out, brushing a finger along Wuyin's wrist.
"Then don't ever look away."
Wuyin closed her eyes, letting the warmth soak into her chest.
"I won't."
She looked down at her blade, the surface now gleaming in the firelight. Something about its edge stirred another memory — the feel of three other hands resting beside hers in ceremony, their breathing steady. Names on the edge of recollection: Ruhen, Qingxue… Lianhua.
She didn't remember their faces clearly.
But something inside her did.
Far off, on a peak outlined against the moonlight, a cloaked figure watched their fire with narrowed eyes — an observer with a crow-shaped pendant clenched in her hand.
She turned away.
The hunt had already begun — and somewhere in the dark, memory stirred with teeth.
---
Hi everyone!
I'm a new writer diving into storytelling as both a passion project and a way to relieve some of life's stress. Writing helps me breathe—and now, I'm hoping it can also help me support the people I care about.
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