My throat is sandpaper. My lungs are burning.
The boy who just told me he liked me is choking on his own blood ten feet away.
And Gu Chen hasn't moved a muscle—he's just watching me to see what I'll do next.
⸻
The sound is the worst part. A wet, rattling gurgle.
I stare at the porch. The skinny boy—Xiao Han, I think—is pinned. The sharpened fence post went through his neck like it was waiting for him to fall. One minute he was smiling, the next he's a fountain of red.
"Help him!" I scream. My voice cracks, sounding like a stranger's.
Gu Chen doesn't run. He doesn't panic. He just stands in my doorway, a towering wall of leather and cold indifference. "It's too late for a doctor," he says. His voice is flat. Dead.
"You're a soldier! Do something!"
I try to push past him. My hands hit his chest—it's like hitting a stone wall.
Body: Hands shaking. Ears ringing.
Thought: This is real. This is happening because he spoke the words.
Choice: I need to get to him. I need to see if I can stop the bleeding.
Gu Chen's hand snaps out, catching my wrist. His grip is a vice. It doesn't just hold me; it hurts.
"Stay back, Lin Yue," he warns. "Unless you want more blood on those sleeves."
"Let me go!" I thrash, but he doesn't budge. "He's dying because of me! I have to—"
"You have to what? Watch him go cold?" He leans down, his face inches from mine. His eyes are dark, predatory. "Look at him. Really look."
I look. Xiao Han's eyes are wide. He's looking at me, his fingers clawing at the wood. Then his hand drops. The rattling stops.
My stomach flips. I think I'm going to puke.
"He's gone," Gu Chen says. He lets go of my wrist, but the skin there is already turning red.
The village isn't quiet anymore. Doors are slamming. Lanterns are flickering to life. Shouts are erupting from the stable area.
"The horses!" someone yells. "The horses are dead in the stalls!"
Thought: Shit. It's not just men. The curse is hungry today.
I back away from the door, my heart thumping against my ribs. "I didn't do this. I didn't ask for this."
"The village won't care what you asked for," Gu Chen says. He steps into my room, closing the door behind him. The space feels too small now. Too hot.
He walks over to my small table, picking up a rusted knife I used for vegetables. He flips it in his hand, testing the weight.
"Xiao Han was your friend?" he asks.
"No," I snap. "I barely knew him."
"Then why did he die for you?"
"I don't know! He just... he said he liked me."
Gu Chen stops flipping the knife. He looks at me, his gaze heavy and destabilizing. I hate how he looks at me—like I'm a specimen under a glass. Like I'm a monster he's interested in.
"Anyone else?" he asks. "Anyone else told you they 'like' you lately?"
I think of the man from the grain store. The one Li Feng was arguing with. Did he like me too? Was that why they were fighting?
Choice: Lie. Keep the target off your back.
"No," I say. My voice is too quick. "Nobody."
Gu Chen walks toward me. Slow. Deliberate. Every step makes the floorboards groan. I back up until I hit the edge of the bed.
"You're lying again," he murmurs. He reaches out, the tip of the cold blade tracing the line of my throat. It's not a threat of death—it's a threat of control. "You knew Xiao Han was going to fall. You ran before it happened."
"I felt it! The air went cold!"
"And you didn't warn him?"
"He wouldn't have listened!" I shout. "Would you? If I told you the air felt cold, would you stop touching me?"
He pauses. The knife stays still against my skin. The tension in the room is thick enough to choke on. I hate him for being so calm while my world is burning. But I need him. If I walk out that door alone, the mob will tear me apart.
"I don't believe in ghosts," Gu Chen says, his voice a dark rasp. "But I believe in patterns. And you, Lin Yue, are a very bloody pattern."
Outside, the shouting gets louder.
"She's in there! I saw her run!"
"Bring the oil! Burn the omen out!"
My chest tightens. Ugly thought: Let them burn. I'll find a way out through the back. But there is no back door. Just the mud walls and the window.
"They're coming for you," Gu Chen says. He pulls the knife away, but he stays close. Too close. "And I'm the only one with a gun."
"Are you going to use it?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"That depends," he says. He reaches into his coat and pulls out a small, blood-stained notebook. Li Feng's notebook. "Tell me about the man at the grain store. The real story. No more lies."
I look at the notebook. I look at the door as a heavy rock hits it. Thud.
"He's the son of the village head," I whisper. "He's been following me for weeks. Li Feng found out. They were fighting because Li Feng told him to stay away from me."
Gu Chen's jaw tightens. "The village head's son? Why didn't you say that before?"
"Because if he dies next, they won't just burn my house," I say, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "They'll hang me from the well."
Gu Chen grabs my arm, hauling me toward the window. "We're leaving. Now."
"Where?"
"My quarters. It's the only place they won't break into."
He kicks the window frame out. Dust and splinters fly. He jumps out first, then reaches back in to pull me through. His hands are rough, pulling me against his chest for a split second before setting me on the dirt.
We run through the shadows, dodging the main path. My lungs are screaming, my feet catching on roots.
We reach the stone building at the edge of the camp. He throws me inside and bolts the heavy iron door.
Silence.
It's dark, smelling of gun oil and old paper.
"You're safe for now," he says, huffing slightly.
I slump against the wall, sliding down to the floor. My hands are stained with Xiao Han's blood from when I tried to push Gu Chen. I look at them and start to shake.
"Safe?" I whisper. "He's dead, Gu Chen. He's dead because he looked at me."
Gu Chen walks over and kneels in front of me. He doesn't offer comfort. He takes my hands in his, rubbing the blood off with his thumb. It's intimate. It's terrifying.
"Then don't let anyone else look at you," he says.
"I can't stop them!"
"I can." He tilts my chin up, his eyes boring into mine. "From now on, you're my 'assistant'. You stay where I can see you. You don't talk to anyone. You don't smile at anyone."
"You're making me a prisoner."
"I'm keeping you alive."
I hate him. I hate the way he's using my fear to cage me. But when I hear the mob howling outside his door, calling for my blood, I realize I'd rather be his prisoner than their sacrifice.
"Fine," I whisper.
Gu Chen smirks. It's not a kind look. It's a victory.
He stands up to check the perimeter, but suddenly, a low moan comes from the corner of the room.
I freeze.
There's a cot in the shadows. Someone is lying there.
Gu Chen's face goes pale—the first time I've seen him lose his cool.
He rushes over.
I follow, my heart stopping in my chest.
It's the village head's son. He's covered in a sheet, his skin gray, gasping for air as his chest caves in.
He looks at me, his eyes unfocused, and gasps out one final word.
"Beautiful..."
Gu Chen's grip on the cot frame turns white.
The boy's heart gives one final, violent thud against his ribs and stops.
⸻
The next voice outside isn't begging for his son—it's demanding my head.