A strange silence settled across the arena. Not the heavy kind that came with fury or consequence, though all of that still lingered at the edges.
This was a quieter, more stunned kind of silence. The type that followed after a king summoned soldiers, a noble house defied the throne, and a five-and-a-half-year-old child raised her hand in the middle of it all, voice still trembling.
Yao Yao cleared her throat again, more formally this time.
"I was just wondering," she said, voice high and too polite, "if maybe I could… say something?"
The king's eyes remained fixed on Shang Zhao.
No one responded. A faint breeze stirred her hair. Somewhere nearby, a single petal drifted silently across the ground.
Yao Yao fidgeted slightly in Shang Jun's arms.
"Right. No one's answering. Um... okay, I guess I will... continue talking."
At last, the king's gaze shifted to her. He didn't speak, just looked at her, as if still deciding whether she was a person or a political incident.
Her heart pounded.
This is fine. I can do this.
She took a deep breath and pointed at the portal.
"First of all," she said clearly, "that spirit threw me out. Twice."
A ripple of disbelief passed through the guards.
Yao Yao scowled. "I know I'm just a kid. I know you're all very busy arguing about the situation—"
She lifted one finger, then a second. "But in my defense… the spirit flicked me."
She paused. "Twice."
Her frown deepened as she folded her arms. "What kind of spirit throws a child?"
A few of the younger guards blinked. Rong Xi arched a brow, faint amusement tugging at his lips.
"Anyway." She tried to straighten in her brother's arms. "The thing is… I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I was just trying to summon my spirit…"
Her voice wobbled, but she kept going. "And then he came out. All majestic and beautiful and…very rude."
She wrinkled her nose. "He called me unworthy. And I got mad. And maybe I… did a few reckless things. But the point is… I didn't do it to cause trouble."
She paused, gathering her thoughts.
"I was just a little angry... "
Her eyes swept the room again, lingering on the drawn swords, the silence of the guards, and her father's unrelenting stillness.
"I didn't think… " her voice dropped lower, more to herself now, "I didn't think everyone would start fighting. Or talking like I'm some prophecy, or miracle, or… thing to be claimed."
Or like I'm some weapon of mass destruction.
Her fingers curled into her sleeves.
"I didn't mean to cause all this," she said, more softly. "I just, wanted a spirit."
And also, she absolutely did not want to be the reason the Shang family was banished from the kingdom.
Her head tilted slightly, voice barely above a whisper.
"Please. Can we not fight?"
The words hovered in the air—small, but sincere.
A beat passed.
Then—
"Yao Yao," Rong Xi's voice cut through the tension like a breeze through smoke. "Tell us something."
All eyes shifted again.
"If you had the choice," he said, "with the portal already open behind you… would you step into it again?"
She blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of the question.
Her gaze drifted towards the portal.
Yes… she wanted to.
But now that the anger had faded, something more unsettling took its place. Doubt crept in at the edges of her thoughts. What if she wasn't ready? What if, despite everything, she truly wasn't enough... magically, emotionally, or anything?
Should she wait? Try again at ten, when she might be stronger, wiser?
Her thoughts looped, spiraling uncertainly.
Then, quietly but firmly, a voice cut through her hesitation.
No one is ever truly ready.
It was her older self. The part of her that had lived a life already, who knew what it meant to hesitate and regret. That voice pulled her back.
Slowly, Yao Yao lifted her chin.
"Yes," she said. "I do."
Rong Xi smiled faintly. "There it is. The child herself wishes to proceed. So then…" He glanced around the arena, his expression unreadable. "Why are we still fighting?"
A moment passed.
Finally, Shang Zhao spoke, his voice was low, though his back remained turned to her.
"Whoever that was… he had already rejected you, Yao Yao. And that is final."
She flinched.
She stared at his back, her lips pressing together tightly. His words weren't cruel, but they struck hard. The kind that left no room for appeal.
Yao Yao's voice came again, smaller now. "But… he came. That means something, right?"
"It just means you opened a door that should have stayed closed," Shang Zhao said.
She blinked. Her chest tightened. For a moment, her gaze dropped in a frown. But then, her eyes lifted again with stronger resolve.
"Brother."
Shang Jun glanced down, his arms still firm around her, brows drawing together in quiet concern.
"Can you let me down?" she asked.
He hesitated.
Then slowly, he set her down. Her feet touched the stone floor in a soft tap. She wobbled slightly—her legs still sore from earlier—but straightened quickly.
The portal swirled behind her, dark and waiting.
But she didn't look back at it. Not yet.
She faced forward, towards the row of figures ahead.
She drew a breath. Then spoke.
"I know I'm young," she began. "I know it probably looks like I don't understand what I'm doing."
At her words, Shang Zhao shifted. His shoulders tensed, and though he didn't fully turn, his head angled just enough to acknowledge her.
"I might've opened the wrong door. I might've made a mess."
Her voice drifted through the air.
"Even if he didn't like me… he came. I'm not giving up just because he has commitment issues."
Silence lingered.
Yao Yao took a step forward.
"Please. I know I'm reckless. I know I caused trouble. But I can do this. I want to do this."
She added, "Maybe he's testing me. Perhaps he doesn't even know what he wants. But I do. I want to try."
Turning to her father, her voice softened into a plea. "Please let me go."
Still, there was no response.
She turned to Shang Jun again.
"…Please."
He met her eyes.
After a lengthy pause, he knelt before her, one knee on the ground, lowering his gaze to meet hers at eye level.
"I do understand," he said quietly. "That's why I'm stopping you."
She blinked.
"I understand why you want to do this. Why it matters so much to you.."
He sighed, voice gentle.
"But understanding is one thing. Letting you take that kind of risk...is another."
His hand rested lightly on her shoulder.
"You don't know what spirit contracting really is. No child your age does. And this... this spirit… the portal… everything about this is not normal."
He didn't look away.
"I don't doubt your courage. I'm proud of it. But courage doesn't mean we stop protecting you."
He exhaled slowly.
"You're asking us to let you take a risk we can't predict. Yao Yao… you're asking for something incredibly difficult."
His eyes flicked to the swirling mist, then back to her.
"Even if you think you're ready… I'm not."
His hand curled slightly at her shoulder. A subtle motion, like he was trying to hold onto her before she slipped away.
"I'm not ready to lose you."
The words landed with a weight she hadn't expected.
Her eyes widened. For a moment, she couldn't find her breath.
Shang Jun had always been kind and gentle, and she was aware of that. His warmth had been a quiet presence in her life, safe and constant. But this… this was the first time he had said something so openly, with no restraint.
It caught her off guard.
Guilt crept in, slow and aching.
Her gaze dropped.
She reached for the pendant resting against her collarbone, fingers brushing its cool silver edge. It had been a gift—one given not to her, but to the girl whose life she now carried.
Her heart ached. Something inside her felt strangely distant, like it didn't quite belong to her. Like it belonged to the real Yao Yao.
But beneath the pendant's chill, she felt her own heartbeat. It was steady. Fierce. Pressing against her hands, as if her body was trying to remind her that this moment was real.
The feeling inside her, even if it began with someone else, was hers now.
Hers to carry.
She hadn't meant to hurt him.
She understood everything they said.
How could she not?
She heard it in every word, felt it in the restraint behind his voice. He wasn't being unfair. He was simply trying to protect her—or at least, the girl he thought she was.
Because he loved his sister.
But even so…
Even with all of that pressing on her chest, she couldn't give up.
Because they didn't know. Not really. They didn't know what kind of soul lived inside this small body. What memories flickered behind her eyes when no one was looking... or what it meant to have died once, but still chose to keep walking.
That this life—this world—wasn't her first.
But she knew.
And she had come so far to reach this moment.
A spirit had answered her call. An ancient one.
That had to mean something.
Even if they couldn't see it, or didn't believe in her the way she needed—
She had to believe in herself.
That she was meant to be different in this world.
And no one could take that from her.
She looked up again.
Shang Jun was still kneeling beside her, patient and still, as if he would stay there forever if she asked.
She took a breath.
And stepped back.
Just one step.
But it was enough.
Shang Jun's eyes widened, just slightly. As if something had slipped through his fingers, something he had been holding so preciously.
And she felt it.
The hurt she caused him. The way that step had landed not on her chest, but on his.
But she didn't take it back.
She turned towards the portal.
Her steps were light, but they echoed too clearly in the silence. She didn't rush. Just walked forward like she had already made up her mind.
Behind her, Shang Jun remained kneeling, gaze fixed on her back. He was no longer trying to stop her. His hand, which had reached for her countless times in her life—when she cried, when she fell, when she needed comfort—remained still.
It wasn't that he gave permission or accepted it. Rather, it felt as if, after everything that had been said, he no longer knew whether he had the right to stop her.
And Shang Zhao stood still, his gaze tracing the path she walked. He looked past the ring of guards, past the cold air and the cracked ground, until his gaze found her again, the small figure walking alone.
She was only five. He was her father. A single word could've stopped her. But somehow, his voice never came.
She had made her choice. And as he stood there, unmoving, watching her walk that path alone, something settled deep inside him. The girl spoke like a child, but for one terrifying second, he didn't see a child in her.
Since she was born, he had done everything to shield her from the dangers outside, just as her mother had. Every decision and every boundary had been drawn for her safety.
But maybe this moment was never theirs to control.
Maybe everything they had done—all he had done—to shield her from the world was never meant to hold. Not because they failed her… but because the path, and the choice, had always been hers.
As if it had already been chosen.
And that no matter how hard humans tried, they could never reach high enough to stir the course of destiny.
Yao Yao reached the edge of the portal. The dark veil rippled slowly, as if sensing her return.
She stopped.
There was just one thing left.
Slowly, she turned her head—not towards the king, not towards the ring of guards still standing at the ready—but towards the one person she needed to see.
Shang Jun.
He was still there, kneeling exactly where she had left him. His posture hadn't changed, hands rested loosely at his sides now, but his gaze never left her.
Their eyes met.
And for a brief moment, neither of them moved. But there was just that look in his eyes—the helpless ache of someone who finally understood what was happening.
That she was really going.
Yao Yao's lips parted, as if she wanted to say something. But in the end, she said nothing.
She turned and stepped into the portal. One foot, then the other, until the mist closed around her and she was gone.
The king's gaze lingered on the spot where she vanished.
Then he glanced at Rong Xi.
There it was again… that unnatural calm. He had seen it too many times in his son's eyes. And now, in hers.
A child, but not entirely childlike.
The resemblance struck him harder than it should have.
His brow creased, just faintly. A familiar discomfort stirring in his chest.
Maybe he was being too sensitive. Reading too much into a moment.
Still, the feeling sat with him.
He said nothing.
Just raised his hand.
And the guards pulled back.