The mountains loomed ahead like ancient sentinels, their jagged peaks cutting through the soft blue of the sky. The path leading up to them was narrow and winding, threading through dense forests that seemed to close in around them as they ascended. Every step was a reminder of how far they had come—and how far they still had to go.
Wenyan walked in front, his expression hard and unreadable. Behind him, Lianfang and Baoqin followed closely, the weight of their journey settling on their shoulders. The air was colder now, the thin mountain breeze carrying a sense of something more—something like a warning.
Lianfang glanced at him as they walked, her steps steady but her eyes filled with something deeper. "Wenyan," she began, her voice low. "You've been quiet since we crossed the river."
He didn't answer at first, his gaze fixed on the path ahead, but she could feel the tension in his body, like a taut string ready to snap.
"It's nothing," he finally said, his voice rough. "Just tired."
Lianfang raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "We all are."
Wenyan's lips tightened, but he didn't respond. He couldn't. The truth of his exhaustion wasn't physical—it was something darker, something that had been eating away at him for days. His past had always been a shadow over his present, but now, with every step, it felt like that shadow was closing in on him, threatening to swallow everything he had fought for.
He had never wanted this life—the running, the secrets, the constant fear. He had only wanted to protect those he loved. And yet, here they were, trapped in a world that demanded blood and sacrifice.
"I didn't want this for you," he said quietly, almost to himself.
Lianfang, walking a little ahead, slowed. "What do you mean?"
Wenyan's shoulders tensed. He hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. The weight of the past always felt heavier when spoken aloud.
"When I left the capital," he continued, his voice barely a whisper, "I thought I could escape it. I thought I could leave behind the things I had done, the choices I had made." He paused, his hands clenched at his sides. "But now… it's like the past is chasing me. And no matter how far we run, it's always going to be there."
Lianfang didn't speak at first, but her gaze softened. She could see the weariness in his eyes, the burden of guilt that weighed on his heart. But she also knew something he didn't.
"We all have pasts, Wenyan," she said, her voice gentle. "Things we wish we could undo. But that doesn't mean we're bound to them forever."
He looked at her, his eyes sharp. "You don't understand."
"Maybe not," she replied. "But I do understand running. I understand what it's like to have the past follow you like a shadow, until it feels like there's no way to escape it."
She was silent for a moment, then added, "But the difference is, we have each other now."
Wenyan didn't respond. He couldn't. He didn't deserve to be part of a family, not after what he had done.
That night, as the cold mountain air settled around them, they made camp beneath a grove of trees. The fire crackled softly, its warm glow casting shadows on their faces. Baoqin had already fallen asleep, curled up in her blanket, the quiet rhythm of her breathing a small comfort in the tense stillness of the night.
Lianfang sat beside the fire, her eyes flickering between the flames and Wenyan, who stood at the edge of their camp, looking out into the darkness.
"Wenyan," she called softly, her voice hesitant. "You don't have to carry this burden alone."
He turned to her, his face etched with a sadness she had never seen before. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The fire crackled again, its warmth a stark contrast to the chill between them.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said finally, his tone distant.
"You don't have to pretend," she said gently. "I can see it in your eyes. The way you carry everything, like it's a weight you can't put down."
Wenyan's jaw tightened, and for a long moment, he looked at her, torn between the desire to protect her from his past and the need to confess everything that had been festering inside him for years.
"I was once part of something… something I thought was right," he said, his voice low. "A long time ago, before I even met you."
Lianfang's gaze never left him, her expression calm but filled with curiosity. She knew there was more, but she also knew he wasn't ready to say it all.
"I was a part of the government," Wenyan continued, his voice growing steadier. "Not just an accountant, but someone who had access to things—things most people never even saw. And I used that access to… protect my own. To survive." He took a deep breath, his hands balling into fists. "But in doing so, I made enemies. Dangerous ones."
Lianfang's heart clenched at the rawness in his words. She could see the inner conflict tearing at him, but she also saw the man who was standing before her—a man who had been shaped by his past but was not bound to it.
"And now they're coming for me," Wenyan said, his voice almost breaking. "And for you. And for Baoqin. Because I can't outrun the past."
Lianfang stood, closing the distance between them. She placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch gentle but firm. "You're not running anymore. We're not running anymore. We're facing it together."
For the first time in a long while, Wenyan let himself breathe. He didn't have all the answers. He didn't know if they could ever outrun their pasts. But for the first time in a long while, he didn't feel quite so alone.
And maybe that was enough.
The night stretched on, the mountain winds howling softly in the distance. Wenyan stared into the fire, lost in thought. He had no idea what awaited them in the morning—only that the road ahead would be harder than anything they had yet faced. But as he looked at Lianfang, her eyes filled with a quiet understanding, he realized that they weren't alone anymore. They had each other.
And that was more than he had ever dared to hope for.