He stumbled back a step, his hand reaching out to steady himself against a nearby fence. "How can this be? Wang Mulan... she died. She died twenty years ago... in my arms."
The pain of that memory, the coldness of her skin, and the way the light had left her eyes...surged back with force.
He looked at Lan Yue again, his vision swimming. "Child... tell me. How old are you?"
Lan Yue felt the weight of his gaze and the heavy atmosphere. She replied nervously, her voice shaking, "I am eighteen years old, Tribe Leader."
Eighteen. The number echoed in Su Mingxuan's mind like a death knell. If she was eighteen, the timeline didn't make sense with the death he witnessed, yet the resemblance was too perfect to be a coincidence.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his chest, centered right over his heart.
