Beginning of Fate

"You must not follow your father's path!" The madam's voice cut through the air. "He destroyed himself. Don't bring shame upon us as he did."

The young man stiffened, her words sinking deep. The sting remained, a wound reopening in his chest.

Her voice echoed in his room, relentless and cruel, each repetition digging deeper. Was there any way to prove her wrong? To show he wasn't his father?

For a moment, Yun Yuhua's smile appeared in his thoughts. It was gentle, like sunlight breaking through clouds—a warmth that eased the weight in his heart. He exhaled, letting the relief wash over him.

Below, the inn buzzed with life—clinking cups, laughter, the rich scent of broth in the air. Yet beneath it all, murmurs slipped between patrons, like shadows. "The son who poisoned his father," they whispered, their voices low, heavy with judgment.

Qian'ai's gaze scanned the room, settling on Yun Yuhua as she moved gracefully between tables.

The room seemed to still. Yun Yuhua froze.

The young man from the Lantern Festival. He was here.

Her fingers tightened around the tray. Cheng Yi's heart skipped. He hadn't expected this either.

The kitchen doors swung open, and Yun Yuhua emerged, candlelight dancing in her hair. Cheng Yi's eyes followed her, an unfamiliar recognition stirring inside him.

Their gazes met. An unspoken understanding passed between them. He straightened, smoothing his sleeves, while she hesitated, her grip tightening on the tray.

"What can I get for you?" Her voice was soft, eyes lingering on him.

Cheng Yi cleared his throat. "What do you recommend?"

A brief smile tugged at her lips. "The fish bone broth. It's comforting."

He nodded. "I'll have that."

A moment later, she returned with the steaming dish. Cheng Yi's lips lifted faintly.

"Thank you," he said. "I never got your name. You may call me Cheng Yi."

"Yun Yuhua," she replied, her voice steady but a hint of gentleness in her eyes.

"Yun Yuhua," he repeated. "Graceful as drifting clouds… rare as jade."

Her cheeks flushed, and she ducked her head, fingers brushing the hem of her sleeve. "Thank you," she murmured, her heart fluttering.

Cheng Yi watched her, his gaze lingering. He lifted the spoon to his lips, the scent of the broth filling his senses, the warmth spreading through him. As the warmth spread, it eased the ache in his chest. His fingers tightened around the bowl, reluctant to let go of the brief comfort it offered.

He paid, feeling the unfamiliar weight of the coins. Without hesitation, he stood and walked toward the door, the cool night air waiting to embrace him. There was an emptiness that followed him, unfinished and unsettling.

Back inside, Yun Yuhua cleared the dishes and handed the payment to Ruqi, who glanced up from the coins.

"Who was that customer?" Ruqi asked, her eyes sharp.

"He said his name was Cheng Yi," Yun Yuhua replied, her smile flickering, dimmer than usual.

Ruqi's brow furrowed, her mind sharpening. "Cheng Yi? Did he give his surname?"

"No, just Cheng Yi," Yun Yuhua said, shrugging.

Ruqi's gaze narrowed, something unsettling tugging at her chest. She pushed it aside with a quick nod. "I see… Good work."

Yun Yuhua returned the gesture and went to help Tian Ke in the back.

Later that night, as the inn quieted, Ruqi finished cleaning, her thoughts distant.

Upstairs, Yun Yuhua lay in bed, Cheng Yi's face lingering in her mind. "He seemed… lonely," she murmured, but the sympathy quickly faded. Memories of the past pressed down on her chest. She closed her eyes, but the storm inside remained.

A week passed, and the market bustled with life as Yun Yuhua, her brothers, and Ruqi explored the village, whispers trailing behind them. Wherever they went, the trio's striking presence caught attention.

"Lady Ruqi, such fine helpers you have," a woman commented, her eyes lingering on Tian Ke. Ruqi chuckled, enjoying the woman's admiration.

"They're like my grandchildren," she said with a playful smile, her voice tinged with both pride and sorrow. "Though they've grown up too soon."

Tian Ke, overhearing, shot Ruqi a playful scowl. "I'm plenty grown," he huffed. But his teasing softened when he turned to Yun Yuhua, his grip on her hand more protective than playful. "Let's go to the market later," he said, his eagerness barely masking the quiet worry in his eyes.

Before Yun Yuhua could respond, Qian'ai spoke, his voice even but firm. "Not too late."

Not a command. A reminder. One that meant more than just curfew.

Yun Yuhua beamed, about to exclaim in excitement, but Tian Ke hushed her with a chuckle. She giggled and nodded. "Okay!" she whispered back.

As evening settled over the market, the business slowed, and Tian Ke and Yun Yuhua saw an opportunity to slip out of the inn. They wandered through the market, browsing the stalls for something to buy.

Yun Yuhua browsed the stalls, her eyes drawn to a delicate array of tassels. A light blue one, trimmed with gold, caught her attention. Just as she reached for it, another hand brushed against hers.

Surprise flickered in her eyes as she met Cheng Yi's gaze. He bowed respectfully. "Miss."

"Cheng Yi," she said, surprised but composed, a note of warmth threading through her voice.

"Are you planning to buy this?" he asked.

Yun Yuhua glanced at the tassel and then waved him off. "You can have it."

Cheng Yi hesitated, his face clouded with uncertainty. "I only thought..." He trailed off, searching for words.

"It's fine. You take it," she said, her tone gentle, leaving no room for argument.

He clutched the tassel, his fingers tightening around it. "If you want it, I'll give it to you. The person I'm giving it to wouldn't mind."

Yun Yuhua's gaze softened as she looked at him, something quiet settling in her chest. "Keep it," she said, her tone gentle. "Perhaps they'll love it. You'll never know unless you try."

Cheng Yi's smile deepened, gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thank you."

She smiled and turned away, finding Tian Ke excitedly holding up a sword. "I think LiAi will like this!" he said, eyes sparkling.

"Yes, I'm sure he will," she agreed.

Cheng Yi lingered, watching their laughter—so natural, so free. The ease between them was something he hadn't known. It stirred something unfamiliar in him, a tightness he couldn't place. He traced the tassel's embroidery, but the comfort it should've offered eluded him.

With a sigh, he turned, the tassel still in his grasp. His steps were light, but the loneliness clung to him like a shadow.

That evening, Cheng Yi returned to the oppressive quiet of his home, his heart heavy as he placed the tassel before his father. The silence between them stretched thin before Hao Jian's cold gaze lifted.

"What's this?" His voice was as hard as the stone he was known to be.

Cheng Yi bowed, his hands trembling slightly as he held the gift out. "An early birthday gift, Father."

Hao Jian's eyes narrowed, dismissive, the weight of years of disappointment seeping into his words. "What use do I have for this? I haven't held a sword in years."

The words cut deeper than Cheng Yi expected. His father's rejection was nothing new, but each time, it felt like a fresh wound. He could never escape the shadow of his father's indifference.

Cheng Yi's lips pressed into a thin line, bracing for the inevitable sting.

"I'm sorry… I'll return it," he murmured, reaching for the tassel.

Hao Jian's hand snapped out, pulling it away. "It's fine. Just leave—I'm tired."

Without a word, Cheng Yi turned and left the room.

The next afternoon, Cheng Yi slipped back into the inn, his presence nearly invisible to the casual observer. He settled near the door, carefully watching the back entrance. But Ruqi noticed him immediately. Her gaze was icy, but something deeper stirred beneath her distrust—a flicker of pain she couldn't suppress.

"Are you Lui Hao Jian's son?" she demanded, her voice laced with the weight of old wounds.

Cheng Yi stiffened at the question, a painful knot forming in his chest. He nodded, barely holding back the surge of shame that rose in him. "Yes... I am."

Ruqi's frown deepened, but her eyes darkened with more than just anger. It was a mix of old pain and unspoken regret. "What are you doing here? Have you forgotten how your father cast me aside in the market?" she demanded, her voice tighter than she intended.

Cheng Yi's face flushed with shame. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Yun Yuhua hurried over.

"Auntie, is everything alright?" she asked, concern lacing her voice.

Ruqi turned to her, her features hardening, the weight of old memories pushing through. She shot a glance at Cheng Yi, her eyes still sharp with contempt, but beneath it lingered something else—an emotion she could never fully confront. "Do not associate with him," she warned. "His father is a madman."

Yun Yuhua looked from Ruqi to Cheng Yi, whose gaze remained lowered, his posture tense. Just then, Tian Ke and Qian'ai entered, joining them.

"Auntie, why would you say that?" Qian'ai asked, confusion crossing his face.

Tian Ke narrowed his eyes at Cheng Yi, recognition flaring before a scowl crossed his features. "You! You tried to flirt with my little meimei!" he accused, voice rising.

Yun Yuhua stepped forward, placing a hand on Tian Ke's arm to steady him. "Enough!" she said firmly. Then, turning to Ruqi, she added, "Auntie, I think you're overreacting."

Ruqi shot Cheng Yi one last glare, her expression tightening, but it was clear her anger was rooted more in fear and uncertainty. She turned away abruptly, storming off, her steps quicker than necessary. Tian Ke and Qian'ai exchanged glances, their displeasure obvious. They sighed heavily before retreating to the back, leaving Yun Yuhua and Cheng Yi alone.

Cheng Yi, still flushed and uncomfortable, remained silent. Yun Yuhua exhaled softly and sat across from him, her presence a calm contrast to the tension.

"I… I'm sorry," Cheng Yi stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Yun Yuhua reached across the table and gently placed her hand over his. He froze, his gaze lifting to meet hers, surprised by the warmth in her touch.

"You're not your father," she said softly, her tone firm yet gentle.

Cheng Yi's breath caught. His eyes lifted to meet hers, wide with surprise.

"Auntie may resent him," she continued after a pause, "but you are not responsible for his actions. You were born because of him, and that itself is a blessing."

Cheng Yi's gaze dropped, his chest tightening as relief washed over him. For the first time, he didn't feel like a reflection of his father's mistakes. A small, grateful smile tugged at his lips. "Thank you… for your kindness."

Her eyes warmed, sincerity radiating from her expression. "Wait here," she said. "I'll treat you to a meal."

Cheng Yi's eyes widened in panic. "I—wait—"

Before he could protest, Yun Yuhua disappeared into the kitchen. He sat there, uncertain and a little lost.

Twenty minutes later, she returned, holding a steaming dish. Cheng Yi stared at it, surprised.

"This is my father's favorite dish," Yun Yuhua explained as she set it down. "My brothers told me my mother made it whenever my father felt troubled. It always helped."

Cheng Yi glanced between the dish and Yun Yuhua, a surge of warmth filling his chest. He picked up his chopsticks, smiling softly. "Thank you. I'll eat it well."

Yun Yuhua nodded and walked off, leaving him to enjoy the meal in silence. In the corner, Ruqi watched, her arms crossed. Her expression was a storm of emotions—conflict, uncertainty, and something deeper she couldn't quite name. Despite her sharp words, she couldn't ignore the quiet kindness Yun Yuhua had shown Cheng Yi, nor the unspoken hope she held that Cheng Yi would not follow his father's path.

Though Tian Ke and Qian'ai still disapproved of Cheng Yi, they knew better than to interfere with Yun Yuhua's kindness.

Ruqi stood at a distance, arms crossed, her gaze clouded with old wounds. She saw the gentleness Yun Yuhua extended to Cheng Yi—the quiet, dangerous flicker of hope in it. Hope had betrayed her before. But for now, she would trust Yun Yuhua's eyes over her own memories.

Cheng Yi kept returning, drawn to that same warmth. And while wary glances lingered, something tentative began to shift. A fragile understanding took root.

Ruqi noticed the way Yun Yuhua offered him gentleness—saw the hope in her gaze—and though old fears lingered, she chose, for now, to trust her judgment.

With every return, Cheng Yi found a little more ease in her presence. The distance between them, once filled with hesitation, now held something softer—something close to trust.