The wind eased at last. The storm had moved on, leaving only the patter of light rain and the sharp scent of lightning-struck air.
Ren's arm still ached where the cursed blade had grazed him, but the wound was closed—gold threads of Li Wei's power shimmering faintly under his skin.
He stared at it, dazed. "That wasn't normal healing," he said quietly.
Li Wei turned toward him. "No. The blade awakened something sleeping inside you."
Ren met his eyes. "Inside me?"
"Your soul remembers even when you don't."
Li Wei's hand brushed Ren's temple, and the world tilted.
The rooftop dissolved into light. Rain became falling petals, the bell tower into the curve of an ancient garden. A memory—or another life—rose around him: a lake lit by lanterns, a young man kneeling beside a serpent coiled in human shape, whispering vows the stars themselves seemed to hear.
Ren saw himself—dressed in pale robes, smiling up at that same golden-eyed figure.
"Li Wei… promise me you'll choose peace next time."
"I promise."
Then blood, shouting, the flash of steel. The same blade that had cut him tonight driving between them, and Li Wei's scream echoing through centuries.
Ren gasped. The vision shattered. He was back on the rooftop, trembling in Li Wei's arms.
"You remember," Li Wei murmured, voice rough. "You were the one who bound me to this world. You died protecting me."
Ren's throat tightened. "And you've been looking for me ever since."
Li Wei nodded once, the motion almost a bow. "Every lifetime, every world. I was never meant to love a mortal, yet I do. I always will."
Ren pressed a shaking hand to his chest. The mark beneath it throbbed with the same rhythm as Li Wei's heartbeat. "It hurts," he whispered.
"That pain," Li Wei said, drawing him close, "is our bond remembering what it lost."
Below them, dawn began to pale the horizon—an exhausted grey after the storm. Neither of them spoke again. The past and present had finally collided, and nothing would ever be the same.