The early morning air at the old iron bridge on the city's northern edge clung with a damp chill, so thick with fog that even footsteps seemed to disappear into a different world.
Lâm Khả Vũ stood motionless, the wind tugging at the hem of his charcoal trench coat. No glasses. No smile. Just a pair of black leather gloves pulled tightly over hands that once trembled with restraint.
"I'm here. And this time… I brought no trust with me."
From the far end of the bridge, An Thư appeared. Same graceful stride, hair loose down her back, and eyes that revealed nothing.
"You've changed, Khả Vũ."
He tilted his head slightly, voice calm but edged with something far colder than frost.
"And you never did. Still making me believe I'd hesitate."
No words. No signal.
In a single breath, she launched forward — a high kick slicing the fog, aiming for his throat.
Thud!
His gloved hand caught it, but the force sent a tremor through his stance.
No flinch. No gasp.
He lunged, precise and fluid — so fast she had to slide back, the gravel skidding beneath her heel.
"You learn quickly."
"And you're not gentle anymore."
Her blows landed hard — but this time, he wasn't surprised.
Last time, he bled because he still believed in her.
Still held back.
This time, each move he made had intention.
No hesitation — only elimination.
An Thư ducked under his fist, spinning away, lips slightly parted.
"So you're really trying to kill me?"
"No." His voice dropped to a murmur. "I just want to see how much pain you can handle… after everything you've done."
Blood glistened at the corner of her mouth.
But her eyes — they didn't soften.
Instead… something flickered. Regret?
"You know… I once wished you'd stay that quiet guy in the corner of the bookstore.
Never touching the world I walk in."
"And you know what?" he replied with a ghost of a smile — cold, calculated.
"You were the reason I wanted to stay out of that world. But that reason died."
They stood beneath the rusting beams, fog wrapping around them like a shroud.
Neither moved.
Neither yielded.
But something — something fragile — had shattered between their eyes.
This was no longer a clash between familiar hearts.
It was a war between two opposing truths.
And next time — no one would miss.