His gaze didn't waver. "I want to know why."
Yan Xiuran was confused.
"Why, after leaving them, you still refuse to be yourself?"
The words landed like a blow.
Her breath caught, fingers curling so tightly that her nails bit into her palm. "What the hell does that mean?"
Zhang Wei stepped closer, studying her—not the fighter, not the abandoned heir, but her.
"You are still Yan Xiuran," he said. "You still wear the identity they gave you. Why?"
She scoffed. "Because this is who I am."
"No." Lao Wei's voice was quiet, but firm. "This is who they made you be."
She flinched.
"You forget," he continued, his voice almost gentle, "I watched you grow up. Before the weight of the Yan family crushed you, before they turned you into what they needed—there was still a part of you that belonged to yourself."
She let out a bitter laugh. "That part is gone."
"It doesn't have to be."
Silence stretched between them.
Zhang Wei's voice softened. "I remember how you used to come to me, asking about some medical terms. You were never meant to be just another heir. You wanted to heal people, not destroy them."
A memory flickered—late nights spent in the study, secretly flipping through medical journals, discussing cases with him when no one else cared to listen.
A fragile, distant dream.
But that was a lifetime ago.
She shook her head. "That was just a stupid, childish fantasy."
"Was it?" His gaze held steady. "Or did they take that choice away from you?"
Her throat tightened. "Choice? I never had one."
"Then take it back."
Her breath hitched.
"You have a choice now," he said, stepping forward, his words quiet but weighted. "You can keep fighting in the dark, drowning in their sins. Or you can step into the light and decide who you really are—without them."
She wanted to argue. Wanted to push him away, to pretend that she didn't care.
But she couldn't.
Because deep down, she did.
Yan Xiuran exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Why are you doing this?"
Zhang Wei didn't flinch at the question. Instead, he studied her for a long moment before speaking.
"I told you before, I watched you grow up," he said. "I was there when you took your first steps in that house, when you scraped your knee and refused to cry because you thought it made you weak. I was there when they praised you in public and broke you in private."
Yan Xiuran's fingers curled into fists, but he continued.
"I saw what they did to you. And I saw what they took from you."
His voice was steady, but there was something in his eyes—something raw. "They didn't just discard you, Xiuran. They erased you. And even after throwing you away, they still use your name like it belongs to them."
He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "I tried to help back then. I tried to protect you in the only ways I could. But I failed."
She clenched her jaw. "It wasn't your responsibility."
Zhang Wei let out a quiet breath, something between a scoff and a sigh. "Maybe not. But I still cared."
She looked away. It was easier than meeting the truth in his eyes.
"I couldn't stop them from taking your life away," he said, "but I can give you a new one."
Zhang Wei reached into his coat once more.
This time, he held out something smaller—an envelope.
She eyed it warily, but when he didn't say anything, she took it and tore it open.
Inside, there was an identity card.
A bank card.
A stack of documents filled with details—an entirely new identity.
Li Xiyan.
Her breath hitched.
"This isn't just an escape," Zhang Wei said, watching her reaction closely. "It's a new life."
Xiuran stared at the name on the card, tracing the unfamiliar letters with her thumb.
"You think I can just erase everything and start over?" she murmured.
"I think you deserve the choice," he replied. "You were never given one before."
Her fingers curled around the contents of the envelope.
A part of her wanted to laugh—another false name, another version of herself. But this was different, wasn't it?
This wasn't an identity crafted for someone else's benefit.
This was freedom, real and tangible.
She was about to close the envelope when a smaller slip of paper fell out.
A phone number was scrawled on it in neat handwriting.
"What's this?" she asked, frowning.
Zhang Wei met her gaze. "A contact at Zheng University. I spoke with him already."
Her breath stalled.
"If you ever decide to pursue what you wanted back then, you won't have to do it alone," he continued. "He can help you get into their medical program. All you'd have to do is call."
Yan Xiuran's grip on the paper tightened.
A doctor.
The dream she had buried under years of pain, betrayal, and survival.
She had thought it was lost—just another piece of herself she had abandoned.
"You really think I can just go back to that?" she whispered.
"I think," Lao Wei said steadily, "that if you want to heal instead of destroy, you should have that chance."
Silence stretched between them.
Zhang Wei's voice softened. "You don't have to decide now. But if you ever want to stop being their ghost, stop fighting just to prove you exist…"
He nodded toward the card in her hand. "Li Xiyan is waiting."
He turned to leave, his footsteps fading into the distance.
Yan Xiuran stood there, staring down at the identity in her hands.
For two years, she had told herself there was no future beyond survival.
But now, for the first time… she wasn't sure.