Reborn in Flames
The fire burned.
Shen Yue had never known what it felt like before.
Now she knew.
It wasn't pain.
Pain was a knife slicing flesh. Pain was a needle stabbing bone. Pain was something you could scream about, cry about, faint from.
Fire was none of those things.
Fire was skin curling in heat. Fire was fat sizzling in flames. Fire was bones turning from white to black, from black to ash—while you stayed conscious, watching yourself disappear piece by piece.
"Mommy... it hurts..."
The child in her arms curled into a tiny ball, his small body convulsing against her. Shen Yue looked down at his face—that little face she'd kissed a thousand times—and watched it melt.
His eyelids were gone. His eyeballs stared nakedly at her. His lips were gone. His teeth were bared in a permanent scream. His skin was gone. His muscles were exposed.
But he still cried.
"Mommy... save me..."
Shen Yue tried to shield him with her charred hands, but her flesh stuck to his, and she couldn't tell where she ended and he began. She wanted to cry, but no tears came—her eyes had no tears left, only blood.
"Nan Yu, don't be afraid. Mommy's here..."
Her voice was barely human. Her throat was full of smoke. Every word was like swallowing a knife. But she had to keep saying it.
This was her Nan Yu.
The child she'd carried for ten months. The child she'd watched grow from the size of her palm to a little boy who could call her "Mommy." She taught him words, taught him to talk, taught him to call for "Daddy"—even though that father had never really looked at him.
Nan Lin. Wolf Clan prince. Her husband. Her son's father.
Where was he now?
Shen Yue looked up, through the distorted heat waves, toward the outside of the fire.
She saw a figure.
That person stood in a safe place, watching through the flames.
Smiling.
Wen Yiyao.
Her sister.
That face held no guilt, no panic, not even a hint of remorse. Only a smile. A manic, twisted, triumphant smile.
Wen Yiyao's lips moved. Shen Yue couldn't hear what she was saying through the roar of the flames, but she recognized the shape—
"Go to hell."
Shen Yue looked down at Nan Yu in her arms.
He'd stopped moving.
He'd stopped crying. His eyes were still open, but there was no light in them anymore.
In his last moment, those eyes had looked at her.
Shen Yue pulled her son tight against her chest, shielding him with her body. The flames licked at her back, burning through her clothes, burning through her skin, burning through her muscles, burning through her bones.
She didn't move.
She just held her son and stared at that smile outside the fire.
She needed to remember that face.
She *would* remember it.
The flames consumed the last of the air. Shen Yue's consciousness began to fade. In her final moment, she heard a voice—
Not Wen Yiyao's laughter.
A man's shout.
Far away, muffled, like it came from another world.
That voice was screaming—
"NO—!"
"NO—!"
Shen Yue's eyes flew open.
She didn't see flames. She saw a gray bed canopy.
Coarse cotton bed curtains, faded edges from years of washing. A wooden bed frame with scratches she'd made as a child—the character for "Yue," carved when she was seven years old.
This was her room in the Wen household.
That small, courtyard she'd lived in before marriage.
Shen Yue sat up stiffly and looked at her hands.
Pale. Slender. Clean nails. No burns. No charring. No rotting flesh.
She touched her face.
Smooth. Intact. No exposed bone.
She touched her body.
Unharmed.
She was alive.
No.
She'd been reborn.
Before she could process the thought, hurried footsteps sounded outside. A maid burst in—Chun Xing. The same Chun Xing who'd served her in her past life, the one Wen Yiyao later sold to a brothel on some fabricated excuse.
"Second Miss! Why are you still sitting there!" Chun Xing's face was anxious, a set of clothes in her hands. "Do you know what day it is? The half-beast marriage alliance! The master wants you and First Miss to attend together!"
Half-beast marriage alliance.
Those four words hit Shen Yue like ice water, from head to toe.
She stared at Chun Xing. "What day is it today?"
"The ninth of March!" Chun Xing stepped back, unnerved by the look in her eyes. "Second Miss, are you alright? Your face is so pale! Should I call a doctor?"
The ninth of March.
Shen Yue's nails dug into her palms. She dug so hard they drew blood.
The ninth of March. The half-beast marriage alliance ceremony.
In her past life, on this very day, she'd accidentally rescued an injured Wolf Clan prince in the back garden. Nan Lin. To repay her, he'd insisted on marrying her himself, over everyone's objections. A year later, she gave birth to Nan Yu. The Golden Wolf appeared, shaking the entire half-beast world. Nan Lin inherited the throne. She rose with her son, basking in glory and luxury.
And her sister Wen Yiyao, because she'd been one step too slow, had to marry some ordinary Pig Clan soldier. After marriage, she suffered cold treatment and abuse, until her husband finally broke her leg and threw her in the woodshed to starve to death.
Wen Yiyao went mad with jealousy.
So when Nan Yu was three years old, she came back to the Wen household.
And lit a fire.
Shen Yue closed her eyes.
She saw her son's face again. Eyes without eyelids. Teeth without lips. A tiny body burned to ash.
And that last cry—
"Mommy... save me..."
Shen Yue opened her eyes.
They were different now.
The Shen Yue of her past life had been gentle, obedient, never fighting for anything.
The Shen Yue of this life—
"Second Miss! Second Miss!" Chun Xing's voice pulled her back. "Please change your clothes quickly! They've been calling from the front courtyard—the half-beast people have already arrived! First Miss is all dressed up and waiting for you!"
Shen Yue slowly unclenched her fists.
Four bloody crescents marked each palm. Blood dripped down her wrists.
She glanced at them, then wiped them casually on her bedsheet.
"I understand," she said. Her voice was as calm as if nothing had happened. "Wait outside."
Chun Xing opened her mouth, but something in Shen Yue's unnaturally calm eyes stopped her. She nodded and retreated.
Shen Yue sat on the edge of the bed, slowly clenching her fists again.
The heavens had given her another chance.
This time—
More footsteps outside.
Not Chun Xing.
Another sound—one Shen Yue had heard for eighteen years, one she'd heard laughing in her final moments.
"Sister's awake?"
The door pushed open.
Wen Yiyao stood there.
She wore a brilliant new crimson dress, a freshly made gold-and-jade hairpin in her hair, her face painted with cosmetics. She glowed. She leaned against the doorframe, smiling, but her eyes were scanning Shen Yue—up and down, left and right, like she was appraising merchandise.
"I sent people twice, but you still hadn't moved." Wen Yiyao walked in, sat at the table, and poured herself tea. "I thought you might be sick, so I came to check."
She took a sip and looked at Shen Yue.
There was something in that look.
Not the contempt from their past life. Not the disgust.
Testing.
Shen Yue's heart skipped.
But her face showed nothing. She looked down, smoothing her clothes. "I'm sorry to make you worry, sister. I'll change now."
Wen Yiyao didn't speak.
She just sat there, watching Shen Yue change clothes.
Shen Yue kept her back turned, putting on each piece one by one. She could feel those eyes on her back like needles.
"Sister." Wen Yiyao's voice broke the silence.
Shen Yue's hands paused. "Yes?"
"Did you sleep well last night?"
Shen Yue's fingers stopped on her sash.
That question—in their past life, Wen Yiyao had never asked how she slept.
"Well enough," she said, continuing to tie her sash. "And you, sister?"
Wen Yiyao laughed. "I had a dream."
Shen Yue turned to face her.
Their eyes met.
Wen Yiyao's eyes held no confusion, no unfamiliarity, none of the normal anticipation for today's ceremony. Only one thing.
Knowing.
She was waiting.
Waiting for Shen Yue's reaction.
Shen Yue slowly finished tying her sash, walked to the bronze mirror, sat down, and picked up her comb. Her movements were slow and steady.
"What did you dream, sister?"
Wen Yiyao stared at her back, her smile slowly deepening.
"I dreamed I saved someone," she said. "An injured man. He was lying in the back garden, covered in blood, no one helping him. I saved him, and he married me. Later I gave birth to a son, and my son was very powerful, and everyone envied me."
She paused.
"What do you think of that dream, sister?"
Shen Yue's comb never stopped.
One stroke. Two strokes. Three strokes.
The bronze mirror showed her face. That face was calm—too calm for someone hearing these words.
"Good," she said. "You had a good dream, sister."
Wen Yiyao stood up, walked behind Shen Yue, bent down, and put her mouth close to her ear.
"Do you know, sister? I just went to check the back garden." Her voice was soft, like a snake slithering through grass. "Guess what? There really is an injured man there."
Shen Yue's hand finally stopped.
Wen Yiyao smiled, satisfied at the reaction, and straightened up. Her smile was radiant.
"Don't rush, sister. Take your time getting ready. I'll go ahead." She reached the door, then stopped and turned back. "Oh, and sister—that injured man is the Wolf Clan prince. His name is Nan Lin."
She watched Shen Yue.
Waited.
Waited for Shen Yue to jump up, to rush at her, to show jealousy, anger, resentment.
Shen Yue did none of those things.
She just put down her comb, stood up, and turned to face her.
Her eyes were as calm as still water.
"Go ahead, sister," she said. "I hope you get what you want."
Wen Yiyao froze.
This reaction was wrong.
She stared at Shen Yue, trying to read something in that face. But that face held nothing. No anger, no jealousy, no resentment, no hatred. Only calm.
Too calm.
Too calm for someone hearing these words.
Wen Yiyao opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Finally, she smiled and walked away.
A few steps out, she stopped and turned back.
Shen Yue still stood there, watching her.
Wen Yiyao looked at her, smiled, and raised her hand—
Waved.
Like saying: Goodbye.
Like saying: I'm going first.
Like saying: You'll never catch up.
Like that smile outside the fire, in their final moment.
Then she disappeared around the corridor corner.
Shen Yue stood frozen.
Chun Xing stood nearby, barely daring to breathe. She looked toward where Wen Yiyao had vanished, then at Shen Yue, and ventured softly, "Second Miss, don't... don't be sad. First Miss has always been like that, grabbing everything she can—"
"I'm not sad."
Shen Yue's voice was calm, as if nothing had happened.
Chun Xing blinked.
Shen Yue slowly raised her hand.
Her palm showed four bloody marks, still oozing. From when she'd dug her nails in. She glanced at them, wiped them on her skirt.
"Let's go."
"Where?" Chun Xing asked. "To the front courtyard to catch the carriage?"
"No."
Shen Yue walked outside.
But the direction she took wasn't toward the front courtyard.
It was another direction.
At the end of the corridor, a man in blue stood alone.
He was tall and lean, with a cool, distant face. His eyes were deep pools, pale gold in color. He stood across half a courtyard, watching.
Watching where Wen Yiyao had vanished.
And watching Shen Yue.
Shen Yue walked toward him.
Chun Xing called out behind her, "Second Miss! Where are you going? There's no one over there—"
There was someone.
Shen Yue could see him.
That man in blue stood perfectly still, like a statue.
Shen Yue reached him and stopped.
She didn't speak.
She just looked up at his eyes.
Those eyes were deep, bottomless pools. But something moved in those depths.
Like... recognition.
Like... knowing.
The man looked back at her.
A long moment passed—maybe only seconds—before he spoke.
His voice was soft, like a snake moving through grass.
"Why didn't you chase her?"
Shen Yue looked at him.
She didn't know why she'd walked toward him. She didn't know who he was. She didn't even know what she was doing.
But she spoke.
Her voice was as calm as if nothing had happened.
"Because some things can't be caught by chasing."
The man blinked.
Then he smiled.
The smile was brief, faint, gone in an instant. But Shen Yue saw it.
There was something in that smile.
Like... understanding.
Like... knowing.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Shen Yue," she said.
He nodded.
"I'm Mo Heng."
He turned and walked away.
A few steps out, he stopped, not looking back.
"Tonight, at midnight. Don't sleep."
Then he vanished around the corridor corner.
Shen Yue stood there, watching where he'd gone.
Chun Xing ran up, panting. "Second Miss! Why did you come here? Who was that? He looked like that Snake Clan guy..."
"What guy?"
"The poorest Snake Clan noble! Mo Heng, I think? They say he lives in a cave—people say it's 'cool in summer, warm in winter' to be polite, but it's really just a hole in the ground! The whole half-beast world laughs at him. They say he's the most useless marriage prospect, whoever marries him is cursed with bad luck!"
Chun Xing chattered on.
Shen Yue didn't listen.
She looked up at the sky.
The sun was bright. The sky was blue. The wind was warm.
The ninth of March.
Three years until the day she'd burned to death.
Three years.
Enough.
She slowly clenched her fists.
Blood still dripped.
She didn't feel it.
In the distance, noise rose from the front courtyard. Carriages departing. Crowds cheering. Wen Yiyao riding off in her carriage, heading for the back garden, heading to save that injured Wolf Clan prince, heading to steal everything Shen Yue had in her past life.
Shen Yue didn't look back.
She looked toward the spot where Mo Heng had disappeared and asked softly, "Where does he live?"
"Who? That Snake Clan guy?" Chun Xing thought about it. "Outside the city, there's this rocky wasteland... some kind of cave..."
"Take me there."
"Huh?" Chun Xing's eyes went wide. "Now?"
"Now."
Shen Yue walked toward the gate.
Chun Xing stood frozen, then finally snapped out of it and ran after her. "Second Miss! Are you crazy? Today's the marriage alliance ceremony, you're not going to the front courtyard, you're going to some rocky wasteland—"
"I'm not participating."
"WHAT?!"
Shen Yue stopped and turned to look at her.
Chun Xing flinched under that gaze.
There was something in Shen Yue's eyes. Not madness, not impulse. Something Chun Xing couldn't understand.
Like... knowing exactly what she was doing.
"I have my reasons," Shen Yue said. "If you're scared, go back. If you're coming with me, stop talking."
She turned and kept walking.
Chun Xing stood there, looking toward the front courtyard, then toward where Shen Yue was going. Finally, she stamped her foot and ran after her.
"Second Miss! Wait for me!"
The two of them walked out through the Wen family gate, into the crowds, into the sunlight.
In the distance, Wen Yiyao's carriage had already disappeared around the street corner.
She was going to the back garden.
She was going to save Nan Lin.
She was going to steal everything Shen Yue had.
What she didn't know was—
Some things can't be stolen.
They never can.