The bridge glowed faintly red under the moonlight — delicate, ancient, and somehow… alive. Each plank seemed to breathe as Aiden stepped onto it, creaking softly like old bones. The air was cold enough to sting his lungs.
Lian followed him, her feet leaving no imprint, her eyes fixed on the far end of the bridge where mist swirled like smoke.
"Where does it lead?" Aiden asked quietly.
"To memory," Lian said. "And to truth."
"Those sound like terrible places," he muttered.
She smiled faintly. "They are."
The moment Aiden reached the halfway point, the wind changed. The red light beneath the bridge shimmered, revealing not water — but faces. Countless faces staring up at him from beneath the planks. Some human. Some not.
"Okay," Aiden whispered. "Nope. Nope. Not looking down. I'm pretending that's just decorative art."
Lian's expression didn't change. "They are echoes of vows broken. The bridge remembers every promise that turned to betrayal."
He exhaled. "So basically, it's made of guilt. Great craftsmanship."
Then the mist ahead thickened, and the world shifted.
The bridge melted away — replaced by a courtyard bathed in moonlight.
Aiden blinked. "Where are we?"
Lian looked around slowly. Her voice was barely a whisper. "My memory."
The courtyard was old — stone steps, wooden lanterns, and a grand cherry tree heavy with blossoms. Aiden heard soft music, laughter, the murmur of nobles.
Then he saw her — Lian, alive. Human. Dressed in pale blue, not red. Her face radiant with joy.
And beside her stood a man — tall, sharp-eyed, wearing traditional robes of silver and black.
Aiden felt a chill. The man's face looked… exactly like his.
Lian (the spirit beside him) didn't move, didn't breathe. "That was Aiji Zhou," she said quietly. "Your ancestor. My love."
Aiden watched as the vision unfolded.
The living Lian laughed — a clear, musical sound. The living Aiji leaned closer, whispering something that made her blush.
Aiden muttered, "So… that's me, huh? The guy with better hair and worse timing."
Lian's gaze softened. "He was charming. Like you. Foolish. Like you."
"Compliment noted," Aiden said dryly.
The vision darkened. The laughter faded.
Now, Aiji stood before Lian — but his eyes were cold. Soldiers surrounded them.
"Lian Xue," one barked. "You are accused of witchcraft and treason. Speak!"
She looked only at Aiji. "You said you would protect me."
He looked away. Silent.
Lian's expression broke — not in rage, but in heartbreak. "Aiji…"
Aiden felt his chest tighten painfully. "He—he betrayed you."
The spirit beside him whispered, "To save his family. To preserve the Zhou name. My love became my executioner."
The vision cracked like glass. Lian's scream echoed across centuries. The living Lian was dragged away, her eyes locked on Aiji's — filled not with hate, but sorrow.
The illusion shattered.
Aiden gasped. They were back on the bridge.
The mist swirled violently now, the red light below pulsing like a heartbeat.
He turned to Lian. "That's why you haunt us. You were killed because of him."
Her voice trembled, though her face remained composed. "I was killed because I loved him. Love is not always salvation, Aiden Zhou. Sometimes, it is the curse itself."
He shook his head. "Then why help me? Why protect my family after all that?"
Her gaze met his, soft and sorrowful. "Because I cannot hate what my heart once called home."
The bridge groaned. Cracks spread beneath their feet. The red glow began to fade.
Lian turned to him sharply. "It is collapsing — the memory rejects your presence. Run!"
Aiden glanced at the churning mist ahead. "That's where we're supposed to go?"
"Yes!"
"Of course it is!"
He sprinted, the boards splintering behind him. Faces screamed from beneath as he ran. Lian glided beside him, her hand glowing red.
The last plank shattered — and Aiden leapt.
Lian caught his arm mid-air, pulling him onto the other side just as the bridge collapsed into the void.
They fell onto solid ground, breathing hard. Or at least, Aiden was. Lian didn't need to breathe.
He lay back, staring at the twin moons above. "Next time," he gasped, "I'm taking the elevator."
Lian looked at him with something almost like amusement. "You passed."
"Passed what?"
"The test of truth. You saw betrayal and did not run from it."
He sighed. "I almost ran into it."
"You faced it," she said simply. "That is enough."
Silence settled between them. The wind carried the faint scent of cherry blossoms again — softer now, almost gentle.
Aiden turned his head toward her. "Lian?"
"Yes?"
"If love can last centuries… maybe it can forgive too."
For the first time, she looked surprised — then smiled, small but genuine. "Perhaps," she whispered. "But forgiveness is the hardest vow of all."