The morning came quiet — too quiet for a world that had once burned.
Meilin stood before the ruins of her old home, the air thick with the scent of wet earth and forgotten memories. The deed Rui had given her rested in her hand, now slightly damp from the mist. It felt heavy — not because of paper, but because of what it meant. Freedom. And loss.
She took a slow breath. It's mine again.
Her voice echoed in her head like a promise.
Xiaoya tugged on her mother's sleeve. "Mommy, can we really live here again?"
Meilin smiled faintly. "Not yet, sweetheart. But we'll rebuild. You'll have your own garden, remember?"
The little girl's eyes lit up. "With cherry trees?"
"Of course," Meilin said softly, her voice almost breaking. "Always with cherry trees."
They began clearing the ground, pulling away broken tiles and burned wood. Every shattered piece was a reminder of what used to be — laughter, warmth, and love turned to ashes.
By noon, an old man approached. His gray coat was soaked, but his eyes were kind.
"You're the new owner?" he asked.
"I was," Meilin answered, then smiled faintly. "And I am again."
He nodded thoughtfully. "I remember when this place was full of music. Your mother's singing used to reach my window every night."
The mention of her mother's name softened her. "You knew her?"
The man chuckled. "Everyone in this town knew her. She had a voice that could calm storms. You have her eyes."
Meilin bowed slightly. "Thank you."
As the man left, Xiaoya danced barefoot in the dirt, chasing sunlight through the clouds. For a brief moment, everything felt peaceful again.
But peace never lasted long for Meilin.
That evening, a letter arrived — sealed with the emblem of Rui's family. She froze, fingers trembling before breaking the wax open.
> "Meilin,
You don't owe me forgiveness, but you deserve the truth.
The night of the fire… it wasn't an accident. Someone wanted to destroy everything connected to your father's work.
Be careful.
— Rui"
Her heart raced as she read it again and again. Not an accident.
Suddenly, the past she'd been trying to bury clawed its way back up. Someone had wanted her gone — and maybe still did.
She folded the letter and stared at the fading sky. The thought of Rui's warning lingered, wrapped in both guilt and care.
"Mommy?" Xiaoya's voice was small. "Are we safe here?"
Meilin knelt and pulled her close. "We are, my love. I promise."
But inside, she knew that wasn't true.
As the first stars appeared, Meilin looked toward the road that led out of town. Somewhere out there, Rui was watching too — maybe regretting, maybe protecting her from afar.
Freedom, she realized, wasn't free at all. It came with a price — the weight of knowing the truth.
She rose slowly, the letter clenched in her fist.
If someone thought she'd stay silent, they were wrong.
The wind whispered through the trees as Meilin whis
pered back,
> "If the past wants a fight, I'll give it one."