The Duan family's private medical wing had never felt so crowded.
Not because of people—there were only three of them—but because of anticipation. The air itself felt heavy, as if the house had drawn a breath and was waiting to see whether it should exhale in relief or shatter under disappointment.
Su Nian stood at the stainless-steel table, carefully laying out her silver needles.
Her movements were precise, unhurried, but her pulse betrayed her. She could feel the black qi already stirring inside Duan Yichen's leg, reacting to her presence with thin, hostile tremors. It recognized her now. Worse—it feared her.
Fear made it violent.
"This time will be harder," she said without looking up. "The qi has learned."
Yichen sat on the edge of the bed, pant leg rolled high, posture relaxed but eyes sharp. "So have I."
Dr. Fang hovered near the monitoring equipment, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles were pale. "Just to confirm," he said weakly, "when you say 'harder,' do you mean medically challenging or reality-altering?"
"Yes," Su Nian replied.
Dr. Fang whimpered quietly and adjusted his glasses.
Su Nian stepped closer to Yichen. She didn't touch him yet—she had learned better than that. First, she closed her eyes and opened her inner senses just enough to assess the damage.
The black qi was thicker than before.
Not because it had grown stronger—but because it was panicking.
"They're feeding it," she murmured.
Yichen's gaze darkened. "The Li family."
She nodded. "They know you're recovering."
Dr. Fang swallowed. "Of course they do."
Su Nian finally placed her fingers against Yichen's ankle.
The reaction was immediate.
Black qi surged upward like a cornered animal, lashing against her senses with bitter cold. Pain spiked behind her eyes, sharp and insistent.
Yichen sucked in a breath.
"Don't pull back," he said quietly.
She didn't.
Instead, she did something she hadn't dared before.
She let it in.
Not fully. Never fully. But enough.
The warmth beneath her ribs flared—steady, deep, ancient. The black qi recoiled violently, like smoke meeting fire.
Dr. Fang stared at the readings. "That— That shouldn't be possible."
Su Nian inserted the first needle.
Yichen's jaw clenched.
The second.
The third.
Sweat slid down Su Nian's spine, her breath careful and measured. Each needle wasn't just piercing flesh—it was dismantling a system of suppression built with patience and cruelty.
"You're not just healing nerves," Dr. Fang whispered. "You're removing… commands."
"Yes," Su Nian said softly. "Someone told his body to forget how to move."
Yichen's fingers curled into the mattress.
She pressed her palm flat against his calf, grounding herself—and him.
"Stand," she said.
Dr. Fang nearly dropped his clipboard. "Now?!"
Yichen didn't hesitate.
He slid off the bed, feet touching the floor. The moment his weight settled, the black qi convulsed one last time—then snapped.
Yichen straightened.
Fully.
The room went silent.
He took one step.
Then another.
The house creaked faintly, like old wood remembering its master.
Dr. Fang burst into tears. "I knew it. I knew medical school was worth it—"
Yichen turned slowly, disbelief cracking through his composure as he tested his balance.
"I can feel everything," he said. "The floor. My weight."
Su Nian smiled faintly, exhausted. "Then it worked."
He took another step.
Then he staggered.
Su Nian caught him instantly.
His hands gripped her shoulders, firm, instinctive. For a moment, neither moved. They stood too close, breathing the same air, the aftermath of danger humming between them.
Yichen's voice dropped. "You pulled something out of me."
She met his gaze. "You were never broken."
Something unspoken passed between them.
Then Dr. Fang cleared his throat loudly. "I am going to step outside and give the universe privacy."
Yichen released her slowly.
But the house had already seen.
And it remembered.