The night was as dark as ink, pressing heavily over the city, and the cold wind swept through the streets, carrying the chill of a winter night.
Bang walked through the night, a hint of blood on him, yet unusually calm. He had left home, like a wandering ghost without a place to belong. His father's body remained there, and the cries of his mother and sister echoed in his ears, but he could no longer hear them. His tears had already been shed the moment he knelt on the ground; all that remained was a desolate silence.
He walked through familiar streets, each streetlight seeming to question him, "Was it worth it?"
But he no longer needed answers.
* Reaching Zero
He came to an abandoned rooftop, standing on the edge, overlooking the city—a city he had lived in for over twenty years, yet had never truly gazed upon. His mood was terrifyingly calm, surprising even himself. He began to recall his past, the struggles he had faced since childhood.
At five, he was afraid of his parents' arguments, hiding in the corner of his room, hugging his knees.
At eleven, he had become accustomed to the instability at home, facing new conflicts every weekend.
At fifteen, he began to learn to be a peacemaker, trying to carry the whole family on his thin shoulders.
At twenty, he watched his family fall apart, his efforts turning to ashes.
Now, he had finally "solved" the problem. However, his world had also reached zero.
* The Beginning of Rebirth
The phone suddenly rang, and he glanced down. It was his mother's number.
Bang's fingertips trembled slightly. He knew what his mother wanted—to cry and beg him to come back? To call him a madman? Or to wish she could send him to prison herself?
He didn't answer and turned off the phone.
The wind on the rooftop grew colder, but he felt no chill. He closed his eyes, and countless images flashed through his mind—the self who desperately tried to keep the family together, the smiles, tears, arguments, despair... all of it was like a dream, and when the dream ended, everything became nothingness.
He slowly opened his eyes, looking at the distant horizon.
"...What do I have left?"
There was no answer.
The wind scattered his disheveled hair, blowing away his last trace of warmth. At that moment, he truly realized—the person named "Bang" was dead.
Replaced by a new self.
One without ties, and without hesitation.
—Xiao, was born at this moment.
(End of Chapter Seven)