Shen Mu snaps back into the moment, chest tight, eyes burning.
The sounds of the neighborhood fade...the scrape of buckets, the low murmur of adults dismissing the widow's words. All of it blurs into something distant and unimportant, like noise heard underwater.
Only the thought remains.
A temple that listens.A spirit that answers.A carved moonstone left behind.
His throat tightens.
If the Suanni heard her…
Then maybe...just maybe...he still has a chance to save Shen Ling.
The idea is fragile, frightening in how easily it could shatter. Shen Mu has lived long enough to know that hope often hurts more than despair. But this time, the pain is already there. It sits heavy in his chest, pressing down with every breath.
He clenches the hem of his worn shirt so tightly the fabric wrinkles in his fists.
Don't cry here.
He turns away quickly, lowering his head, before anyone can see the tears building in his eyes. He does not want pity. He does not want lectures about coincidence or patience or fate.
Tonight…
Tonight he will make his plea.
That night, long before Jin Yue wakes, Shen Mu runs.
He does not wait for full darkness, only for the moment when the streets thin and the lamps flicker low. He slips out of his home like a shadow, barefoot, clutching a tiny cloth pouch against his chest.
Inside it are coins.
Not many.
Coins he saved by skipping meals, by pretending he wasn't hungry when his stomach burned, by hiding them beneath loose floorboards like a secret too precious to share. Each one represents a day endured, a small sacrifice made quietly.
The pouch feels heavier than it should.
Not because of its weight...but because of what it means.
Shen Mu runs until his lungs ache, until the abandoned temple looms ahead of him, dark against the silver sky.
The broken roof gapes like a wound.
Moonlight spills through it, washing the interior in pale, frozen light.
The Suanni statue waits inside, unmoving.
Shen Mu slows as he steps over the threshold. His feet hesitate on the stone floor, dust puffing softly beneath his soles. The air smells old...of dry wood, cold stone, and time.
He swallows.
Then he kneels.
His knees hit the floor harder than he expects, but he doesn't care. He bows low...lower than he has ever bowed to anyone. His forehead presses against the cool stone until it almost hurts.
"Please…" His voice shakes, thin as a thread. "Suanni… Spirit… Night Listener… whoever you are…"
Moonlight spills across the dusty floor like frozen water, cutting his small form into sharp contrasts of light and shadow.
His tears fall one by one, darkening the stone.
"My sister was taken," he whispers. "I don't know where she is. I can't save her alone."
His hands tremble as he reaches forward and places the pouch of coins into the shallow stone dish before the statue. The soft clink echoes far too loudly in the empty hall.
"Please… help her," he begs, shoulders curling inward. "She's all I have."
The temple remains silent.
The moon is gentle and cold, indifferent to human suffering.
But something stirs in the shadows.
Not a ghost.Not a god.
A quiet wanderer opens his eyes.
Jin Yue listens.
The child's trembling whispers drift through the temple, carried by still air, fragile but insistent.
"Please… if you can hear me… please help my sister…"
Jin Yue goes still.
The words strike deeper than expected.
A second plea.The same temple.The same pattern of despair.
He remains seated on his straw bed, body relaxed but mind suddenly alert. The Pulse within him stirs faintly, like a breath taken after long stillness.
The boy's voice quavers, but he does not stop.
"I don't know where she is now," Shen Mu continues, voice breaking. "They said they would sell her to pay father's debt."
There is a pause...sharp, tight.
"I'm scared I'll never see her again…"
Jin Yue's fingers curl slightly against the straw beneath his palm.
The sound is small, almost imperceptible, but it marks the moment something changes.
The child's voice drops lower, thinner.
"I know adults won't help," Shen Mu whispers. "They're afraid."
Jin Yue closes his eyes.
"But the widow said her prayer was answered," the boy continues. "She said someone heard her."
Shen Mu lifts his head just enough for his tear-filled eyes to catch the moonlight. The reflection makes them shine like glass on the verge of breaking.
"So… please," he says, desperation threading every syllable. "Please answer me too. I don't have anyone else."
The temple stays silent.
No wind stirs the hanging vines.
No wood creaks.
Only the small sound of a heart breaking quietly in the dark.
Shen Mu bows again...awkward, desperate, his movements clumsy with exhaustion and fear.
"I'll leave everything I have," he says, voice cracking. "Just… please bring her back."
The pouch of coins clinks softly, the sound final, resolute.
From the shadows, Jin Yue watches.
He does not speak.
Does not reveal himself.
Does not step into the moonlight.
He has learned long ago that miracles announced too loudly lose their power.
But something deep inside him shifts.
A faint echo stirs...an old memory, buried beneath years of silence and wandering. Another dark place. Another terrified child. Another promise spoken softly into fear.
Don't cry. I'll protect you.
Jin Yue exhales slowly.
The child bows one last time, his small shoulders trembling with effort. When he straightens, he wipes his face with the back of his sleeve, smearing dirt and tears together.
He steps backward from the statue, careful, respectful.
For a moment, he lingers at the doorway.
Waiting.
Hoping.
But the temple gives him no sign.
No voice.
No movement.
Nothing.
At last, Shen Mu turns and walks out.
The soft padding of his bare feet fades down the stone steps, each sound growing fainter until the night swallows him entirely.
The world resumes its indifference.
Only then does Jin Yue move.
He rises silently, not disturbing a single strand of straw on the floor. His steps make no sound as he crosses the empty hall, his presence barely more than a shadow slipping between moonlit beams.
The Suanni statue watches him without judgment.
At its feet sits the small pouch of coins.
Shen Mu's entire savings.
Every skipped meal.
Every hunger endured in silence.
Jin Yue stops before it and looks down.
It is not payment.
It is not a bribe.
It is a plea...a contract born from desperation and faith.
Slowly, Jin Yue crouches and picks it up.
The drawstring is rough against his fingers.
The pouch is light...pitifully light.
Yet when he closes it in his hand, the faint metallic clink inside feels heavier than any treasure he has ever carried.
Not because of value.
But because of trust.
Jin Yue straightens and ties the pouch to his sash, movements calm and deliberate. There is no hesitation in him now, only quiet certainty.
Tonight, another prayer will be answered.
Not with spectacle.
Not with thunder or divine proclamation.
But with the same method as always.
Precision.
Silence.
Justice delivered without witnesses.
As Jin Yue slips into the darkness beyond the temple walls, the Pulse within him settles into steady rhythm, thin as a fishing line, sharp as moonlight.
Behind him, the abandoned temple returns to stillness.
Moonlight continues to pour through the broken roof.
Dust drifts lazily in the air.
And the Suanni statue remains unmoving, guardian of secrets and silent vows.
All that lingers is the ghost of footsteps...
and the promise of quiet justice flowing once more through the shattered moon river.