The Rift quieted—
but it was the wrong kind of quiet.
Not peaceful.
Not safe.
A suffocating silence that clung to the air,
the kind that made the hair on Yin Lie's arms stand on end.
Qin Mian trembled in his hold,
her breath thin and fast,
her fingers digging into the fabric of his coat.
"Mian," Yin Lie whispered, brushing her hair away from her face,
"look at me. Are you hurt?"
She lifted her head slowly.
Her eyes were unfocused—
as if she was looking at something far beyond him.
"I… heard him again," she whispered.
"The voice… the song…
I remember pieces, but they're all broken…"
Yin Lie's chest tightened.
Her expression—
fear, longing, pain—
felt sharper than the cold surrounding them.
"What do you remember?" he asked softly.
Qin Mian pressed a hand to her forehead.
Her breath caught.
"There was… darkness," she said slowly.
"A long sleep.
I was cold, but… someone stayed with me.
Someone who held my hand when I cried."
Her voice cracked.
"He sang to me.
A lullaby.
The same one I heard just now."
Yin Lie swallowed.
"Do you remember his face?"
She shook her head.
"No… not his face.
Only his… presence."
A pause.
"And his name.
I think I almost said it."
The Rift flickered in response,
as if eavesdropping.
Yin Lie's grip tightened around her waist.
"You don't have to force it.
Take it slow.
Your memories were sealed for a reason."
Her eyes met his—
soft, fragile, searching.
"Do you think remembering is dangerous?"
He hesitated.
Then nodded.
"It could be.
But forgetting might be worse."
Qin Mian's breath trembled out of her.
"I know."
She looked down at her hands.
Her fingers glowed faintly, dream-light trembling like candle flame.
"Lie…
When I touched the Rift, something inside me opened.
Like a door that had been locked since forever."
The air around her distorted—
subtle at first,
like heat waves rising off sand.
Yin Lie stepped closer.
"Your resonance… it's rising again."
She closed her eyes.
"I don't want to break anything.
I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't," he said, more certain than he felt.
"I'm here. Whatever you remember, you won't face it alone."
Her lips trembled.
She nodded—
—and the Rift cracked.
A hairline fracture.
A soft, echoing hum.
Like the world reacting to her heartbeat.
Qin Mian froze.
"Lie…
I think it's coming back."
"Your memory?"
"No.
His name."
The Memory Tears Open
A pulse of white light shot from her chest,
spreading across the ground like water.
Yin Lie pulled her close—
"Mian—!"
But the light wasn't hurting her.
It was protecting her.
The world around them dissolved into a vision—
not illusion,
not Rift-creation,
but memory.
A room appeared around them:
A small chamber, glowing faint blue.
Monitors stitched with unreadable symbols.
A bed in the center, surrounded by cables and restraints.
And on the bed—
A younger Qin Mian.
Smaller.
Fragile.
Her eyes closed, lashes wet from crying.
Beside her sat a figure.
A man made of soft blue light—
the Rift couldn't show his face,
but it showed his outline,
lean and graceful.
He sat with his back against the wall,
head bowed,
holding her hand gently in both of his.
He was humming.
A soft, sad melody.
Qin Mian's hand flew to her mouth.
"I… I know this…"
Yin Lie stepped closer, voice low.
"That's you.
And that's him."
The man leaned over the younger Qin Mian.
His voice echoed through the memory:
"Little star… little star…
Please don't wake too far…"
Qin Mian's shoulders shook.
"I remember that song…"
The man whispered:
"Sleep. I'm here.
I won't let them take you away again."
Qin Mian gasped.
"I know that voice!"
She clutched her heart as pain hit her—
sharp, electric.
"Lie—
I—I think he was important to me.
Someone I trusted.
Someone I… loved?"
Yin Lie's expression twisted—
the smallest flicker of pain in his eyes.
But he didn't let go of her hand.
"I'm here," he said quietly.
"Whatever you remember… I'm here."
The memory figure lifted his head for the first time.
Still faceless.
But his aura felt overwhelmingly familiar.
He leaned close to the younger Qin Mian and whispered:
"If you forget everything else…
please remember my name."
The world trembled.
Qin Mian pressed her palms to her temples, choking on her breath.
"I know it—
I KNOW it—
Why can't I say it—?!"
The Rift walls cracked like thunder.
Light shot through every fracture.
Yin Lie gripped her shoulders.
"Mian—focus on your breathing.
Slow. With me.
You don't have to force the name—"
But the memory figure spoke again.
This time directly at her.
Directly at the present Qin Mian.
As if he could see through time.
"Mian… say it."
The memory shattered.
The Rift collapsed back into view—
but a single word rose from her throat,
breaking like a sob.
A name.
Soft.
Sacred.
Full of a century's worth of emotion.
"…Ge Ren…"
The moment she spoke it—
Everything screamed.
The Rift.
The ground.
The cracks in the sky.
Yin Lie grabbed her just as her knees buckled.
"Mian?!"
She clung to him, tears streaming down her face.
"I remember him…
I remember—
He was the one who stayed with me…
He protected me…
He loved me…
He—"
Her voice broke.
"He died because of me."
Yin Lie froze.
The air grew colder.
"Mian…
Who was he?"
She looked up at him.
Her eyes glowing faint blue,
full of grief and awakening power.
"Ge Ren was the first Anchor," she whispered.
"And I… I killed him."
The Rift roared.
—Chapter 102 End—