Su Kang drew a steady breath. The Ancestor’s patient gaze rested firmly on him. His story began with his first accidental encounter with Bai Yunxi five years ago. It had been a chaotic rescue, brief yet unforgettable, that left him with the image of a woman who, despite being worried about her image, carried herself with a lovely grace that left a deep impression on him.

From there, he moved to his time with Li Fang at the Qingyun Sect. He spoke of the missions they had undertaken together, of the camaraderie that grew on those journeys, and of the trust that followed.

He presented his support as recognition of a gifted sect brother whose rise could benefit their clan, something the elders already believed. To lie and say he had helped Li Fang for her sake would have been foolish. The Ancestor’s spiritual sense was keen, and lying would have been a grave mistake.

“It was only when Li Fang prepared to leave for the Central Plains that I met her again,” Su Kang said, his voice softening. “I had promised to look after his family, and she was mourning her son’s departure.”

He recounted the journey from the sect. His words painted not a pursuit but a slow bond forming over time. He spoke of the quiet evenings on the spiritual boat, where silence was shared more easily than words. He described the conversations that pulled back layers of her grief, revealing a resilient and thoughtful woman beneath. He remembered her simple joy during a mortal festival, the quiet attention with which she listened to his stories. In those moments his admiration deepened and turned into something undeniable.

“The more I remained at her side,” he confessed, his gaze steady, “the more I saw a woman who had endured alone. My respect for her grew. Along with it came a desire to see her happy, to protect her.”

The Ancestor stayed silent. He drank slowly from his wine gourd, his expression impossible to read.

When Su Kang’s account ended, the old man gazed into the pond for a long while. At last he chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling. His eyes crinkled with disbelief and amusement. He gave a slow nod. “So, it's like that,” he murmured, the word carrying weight.

He looked back at Su Kang, a strange light flickering in his eyes.

“Very well,” the Ancestor said at last. His tone was firm, final. “Since you have chosen her, and your intentions are true, I have no complaints regarding the ceremony.” With a wave of his hand, he dismissed him. “You may leave.”

Su Kang rose, but his movements were stiff. He had prepared for reprimand, even punishment. Yet the Ancestor had only laughed. A puzzled expression settled on his face, his brows drawing tight. He had violated a major taboo, yet the highest authority in his clan was amused. His mind refused to let the matter rest.

“Ancestor,” he said at last, hesitant but firm, “this junior has a question.”

The old man raised a heavy brow and gestured for him to continue.

Su Kang steadied his breath. “Why are you not troubled by this? I have broken one of the most fundamental social norms. To take the mother of my sect brother as my own is an act that invites scorn and ridicule. It is a taboo, yet you show no objection.”

After Su Kang posed his question, the Ancestor laughed slightly, his laughter filled with genuine amusement. He lifted his gourd, drank again, then set it down.

“It is because my values are not the same as yours, boy,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of years. “Only in the last sixty or seventy years were our clan members allowed to mingle with other powerful families and sects of this state. In that time, our people adopted many of their customs and their way of thinking.”

The Ancestor’s gaze drifted into the distance. “But I am different. My core beliefs were formed long before then. While they align with the laws of Jiang State, my views on women and marriage are… not quite the same.” He paused, turning toward the southern direction. “In the Barren Lands, it matters little if a common woman remarries. It is practical, part of life. Here, it is frowned upon. Considered a stain.”

His gaze sharpened as it returned to Su Kang. “You never swore a brotherhood oath with this Li Fang, did you?”

Su Kang shook his head. “No, Ancestor. We were friends, but there was no oath.”

The Ancestor nodded, satisfied, and took another sip of wine. “Then there is no problem. Without an oath sworn before Heaven, this matter is yours alone. Moreover,” his voice softened slightly, “if the woman herself accepts the relationship, then who am I to question her heart? As for the scorn and ridicule of others, it is your responsibility to ensure it does not follow you. That is all. I care for nothing else.”

Su Kang listened until the end. Understanding settled over him like a heavy cloak. He bowed deeply. “Do not worry, Ancestor. This junior will protect the clan’s reputation.”

The Ancestor gave a slight nod, then waved a hand to dismiss him. “Go.”

Su Kang turned away. A relieved smile finally touched his lips. As he passed beneath the gnarled tree at the courtyard’s edge, a voice rang out in his mind.

“Meet me again before you leave the Jiang State.”

It was a voice transmission. Su Kang paused for a heartbeat, wondering at the reason for the summons, but the relief he felt overshadowed any new concern. The Ancestor had given his permission. That alone was enough. He was sure it would not be a problem. He continued on his way, walking back toward the core of the manor, his steps lighter than they had been in months.

Back in the courtyard, the Ancestor drank a few more sips of wine. His gaze fell on the golden koi drifting through the still pond.

“Yue Mei…” he muttered, his voice a low rumble. “Even I cannot see her cultivation realm when she is in seclusion. As expected of a member of a noble cultivation family from the empire.” His brow furrowed slightly. “But why is she here? And why does Su Kang trust her so completely?”

The koi swam on, their scales glinting in the sunlight. The Ancestor stood in silence, lost in thought. After some time, he spoke again, his voice low but resonating with authority across the quiet courtyard.

“Tell Su Chen to meet me.”

…

As Su Kang entered his courtyard, he felt the last of the tension leave his body. He wanted to do nothing now. He just wanted to rest. He walked towards his bedroom. As he passed a polished bronze mirror, he paused and looked at himself for a moment.

He saw a handsome young man with short dark hair, olive skin, dark, intense eyes, and a straight, high nose. In his ears, the new black-and-gold earrings given to him by Senior Ma glinted softly.

"I've gotten used to this self without even realizing it," he murmured, a faint, weary smile touching his lips. In the beginning, these robes, this face, this life had felt like a costume. It was familiar, yet unfamiliar. Now, it was just… him.

He went to the bed and lay down, his arms stretched out to both sides. He stared up at the intricate patterns carved into the wooden ceiling. The weight of the last few months, and of a lifetime of memories both lived and foreseen, pressed on him.

"It's been more than half a year," he whispered, thinking of the day he had awakened with Arya's memories crashing into his own. With the clan’s immediate pressures eased, his thoughts drifted farther back, across worlds.

My younger siblings… my brother and sister… and my parents… they must have… he thought, his throat tightening. It had been more than twenty-four years since he was born as Su Kang. He didn't know how much time he had spent with Fate as a disembodied soul, traveling between worlds.

"Fate, how long has it been since I died as Arya?" he asked in his mind.

Silence answered for a moment, then the indifferent, metallic voice replied, "Approximately forty years have passed on Earth. Thirty years were spent traveling to this world. I then stayed and nurtured your soul for ten years before your reincarnation."

Forty years. The number settled in his heart like a stone. My mother and father are dead then. The certainty of it was a quiet, hollow ache. I wish I could have seen them one last time. If only I could have spoken the words that were in my heart… The old regret, a familiar ghost, wrapped around him. His mother had always been frail, her body weakened by sickness. The news of his death must have devastated her. He hoped they had been able to move on. He hoped his siblings had taken care of them.

As for my little brother and sister… they would be grandparents by now. The thought was surreal. So I have nephews and nieces. And their children. I'm a grandpa, too. A small, bittersweet smile touched his lips. He imagined a scene he would never see. His siblings, older now, playing with their grandchildren, their faces etched with laugh lines. He felt a deep sadness. It was a sadness for a life he never truly lived, for a family he could never see again.

He closed his eyes, the image fading into the darkness behind his lids. The gratitude he felt for this second chance, for the family he had now, warred with the sorrow for the one he had lost forever.

"Fate," his mental voice was a resigned whisper. "I guess a small part of me still hates you."