Chapter 59
Mingxi adjusted the cloak around her shoulders, careful not to disturb her, but she spoke before he could withdraw his hand. Very quietly. Barely a breath.
“I trained for nineteen years to kill them.”
Mingxi froze. Poppy’s eyes remained closed, her voice drifting like someone speaking from miles away.
“My parents,” she murmured. “Everyone thought I was grieving. Or fragile. Or broken.”
Her fingers curled weakly in the fabric of his cloak.
“But I wasn’t. I was waiting.”
Mingxi’s throat tightened, and Poppy leaned a fraction closer, temple brushing his shoulder.
“They hurt people,” she whispered. “They hurt me. Hurt my sister. Hurt… so many.” Her breath trembled, not with fear, but exhaustion. “I thought if I could destroy them… maybe I could finally stop feeling like a ghost in my own life.”
Mingxi’s heart twisted sharply.
“But someone beat me to it,” she breathed. “Someone else got to give me my birthday present.” A single tear slipped down her cheek—silent, unintentional. “It should have felt like justice. But all it felt like was… empty.”
Her voice faded.
Mingxi didn’t speak. Didn’t breathe. He simply reached across the space between them and, with infinite gentleness, brushed the tear from her cheek with his thumb.
“You are not alone,” he murmured. “And no vengeance could ever have made you whole.”
Her breathing steadied again, soft and even, and then she settled back to sleep. Mingxi watched her for a long time, the confession settling in his chest like a weight and a vow.