It was afternoon in the sweltering summer heat. The sun hung high, casting golden light through the windows, warming the wooden desk. Outside, the air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers from the garden. Huanxin sat at the desk, picking up a pen and a fresh sheet of paper. She hesitated for a moment before putting her thoughts into words.
Dear Jian,
I received your letter, and I am so happy for Brother Jun. He's finding love, and I truly hope that he and Ms. Sun can build a life together that lasts forever. They deserve it, don't they? And I hope you, too, find someone who brings you the same joy.
I don't know if I've ever said this clearly, but I'm so grateful to you and Lian Jun. I think about that day often—the day you both saved me. If you hadn't arrived, I might not even be alive to write this. You pulled me back from the edge in more ways than one. I never told you this before, but the day you and Lian Jun helped me build the alarm; it wasn't just a wall for my home. It was a wall you helped build around my heart—one that made me feel safer than I ever had. Before that, I didn't realize how broken I truly was—how much fear I carried with me every day.
There are things I haven't told you, things that I still can't share. But I want you to know that every moment you stood by my side without asking questions, every time you supported me without prying or pushing, you made me believe that perhaps, one day, I could tell you everything. Maybe, one day, I could trust again. You and brother Jun made me realize that there's still light in the world, even after everything I've been through.
I don't know how long it will take me to believe that fully, but I'm trying. And for that, I owe you both more than words could ever say. The only ounce of trust and hope I have left is because of you both; if it weren't for you, I wouldn't even have that.
Anyway, things have changed a lot for me. I've left the hut. I'm living with the Wu family now, and they've been so kind to me. They treat me like one of their own, just as you and Jun did on our journey. But being part of a family again feels strange, Jian. They laugh so freely, they share stories around the table, and they've embraced me in all of it. It's both beautiful and terrifying.
At times, I catch myself holding back, wondering if I truly belong here and deserve the kindness they show me. There's this warmth, but I'm afraid of losing it and letting myself feel too comfortable. Do you understand that?
When we traveled to Tianle, I could forget the past in moments of laughter and long talks, feeling like I was part of something—a family, even if only for a while. I'll always treasure those memories, especially when the world feels heavy again.
But here, with the Wu family, things feel different. It's not just fleeting moments of belonging; it's... real. And I'm scared of what that means. What if they see the parts of me that I've hidden for so long and I end up letting them down? These thoughts keep swirling in my mind, but still, I try. I'm slowly learning to accept that maybe, just maybe, I can have a home again.
I hope you're doing well. I miss you both. Write to me when you can. Tell me more about Ms. Sun. I am excited to see what my sister-in-law will be like. I'm pretty sure she is a lovely lady.
Your Sister, Lianfeng
She looked at the name, which was her identity now but wasn't hers truly, too. Should I tell them that I am Huanxin? But what good would that do? Knowing about my identity would do more harm than good. Maybe I am now Lianfeng, not Huanxin. Huanxin had been a joyful girl once, a heart filled with laughter and dreams, but that girl had died when she lost her tribe. Huanxin meant "joyful heart," a name that resonated with her past, but Lianfeng—"persistent wind"—represented her fight for survival and her desire for revenge. It was as if she were straddling two worlds: one that reminded her of the love she once knew and another that pushed her toward the darkness she battled within.
As she contemplated her identity, Huanxin felt sad. Would she ever fully embrace the name Lianfeng? Did she have to abandon Huanxin completely to move forward? Each name told a story, yet both felt like masks. Lianfeng was a reminder of her resilience, but at what cost? It seemed like a betrayal to the joyful girl she once was. Was she becoming someone new, or was she hiding from the person she had been? She exhaled deeply, releasing a heavy breath.
Lost in thought, Lianfeng was interrupted by Wu Hi's bright smile and high-pitched voice, cutting through the heaviness in the air, "Lianfeng, come and help us! We are planting new plants today!"
Lianfeng smiled, grateful for the interruption, and followed Wu Hi into the garden. The vibrant colors of flowers surrounded them, as Mr. Wu and Ms. Su's laughter filled the space like a gentle melody. They each held a plant pot, with two others resting at their feet.
Wu Hi picked up one of the pots and offered it to Lianfeng. "One plant for each of us!"
She took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the sun and the gentle breeze carrying floral scents. As they planted the flowers together, she realized each seed symbolized a new beginning—not just for the plants, but for her as well.
"Let's plant it together!" Lianfeng said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. She knelt beside Wu Hi and pressed the plant into the soil, grounding it as if to ground herself.
"Look, it's perfect!" Wu Hi exclaimed, her eyes shining with joy. "Now it can grow with us!"
At that moment, Lianfeng felt a spark of hope. Perhaps, with time, she could truly belong here.
Her thoughts drifted back to Jun and Jian. Her feelings for Zhen Jian and Lian Jun were complex, layered with gratitude and a deep, almost familial love. They had saved her—not just from a moment of peril but from a life of solitude. Their friendship had been her lifeline, a connection to the world that felt warm. With them, she felt seen and valued, but there was always a distance—an unspoken barrier stemming from her fear.
Jian and Lian Jun had supported her through the darkest times, but their relationship was tinged with the shadows of her past. While they provided her with solace and strength, she often felt like a visitor in their lives. There was a sense of obligation to keep her distance, to protect them from the remnants of her pain.
In contrast, the Wu family offered her a different kind of connection—a familial bond that enveloped her like a warm blanket. They didn't know her past, yet they welcomed her without hesitation, treating her like one of their own, and engaging her in their laughter and shared experiences. This acceptance was unlike anything she had known before.
With them, I am not just surviving—I am living. They see me for who I am today.
Yet, as she bonded with the Wu family, she grappled with the fear of revealing too much. What if they know my truth and turn away? Can I risk revealing the shadows that lurk within me?
This contrast deepened her internal conflict—between Jian and Lian Jun's comforting familiarity and the Wu family's untainted acceptance. Each family offered a distinct path: one grounded in the past and the other with promise.
Lianfeng realized that to embrace her new life, she needed to confront her identity.
It was another usual morning in the Wu household. The soft hum of daily chores filled the air as sunlight streamed through the open windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing lazily. Huanxin, with her hair tied back and sleeves rolled up, swept the attic alongside Ms. Su. Though dusty, it felt comparatively cleaner than others she had encountered in past.
As she dusted off an old trunk, her eyes fell upon a family tree affixed to the wall. One thing was strange whichcaught her attention: beneath every picture, there were two name. Confusion etched her brow as she stared at the tree, her heart racing with curiosity.
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"Ms. Su, why are there two names beneath Wu Hi's picture and every other picture?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ms. Su turned, her expression warm and inviting. "Wu Hi is also Su Hi. She carries both surnames. In our family, we honor both our mothers and fathers. Wu Hi carries both legacies—her father's and mine—just like all the children in this household. See? I have two names as well." She pointed to her picture, the joy in her voice unmistakable.
A smile tugged at Huanxin's lips. The idea of carrying both legacies resonated deeply with her, echoing the complexities of her identity, torn between her past and the new life she was building. She felt a sense of longing, wishing to embrace the duality.
"We choose which family name we want," Ms. Su continued, her eyes twinkling with fondness. "I chose my mother's while Wu Hi chose her father's. You know, her reason was quite silly. She said, 'Since I am choosing to learn your martial arts, I will choose my father's surname.'" Ms. Su chuckled.
Huanxin couldn't help but chuckle too, though beneath her amusement lay deeper reflections. The freedom to choose one's name and identity felt like a luxury she didn't know. Despite her acceptance into the Wu family, her past lingered in her mind.
Suddenly, Ms. Su removed a miniature portrait of Huanxin from her pocket and placed it beside Wu Hi's portrait on the family tree. Huanxin's confusion morphed into disbelief as she stared at the portraits side by side.
"Ms. Su, I—" she began, her voice trembling.
Ms. Su smiled warmly, sensing her hesitation. "You are also part of our family, Lianfeng. You can choose which surname to carry later on."
Tears welled up in Huanxin's eyes, blurring her vision. The name Lianfeng, meaning "persistent wind," felt foreign and familiar, representing her struggles and quest for revenge. But in this moment, surrounded by love and acceptance, it began to transform into something else—a name that could carry the weight of her past and a hopeful future.
"But I am not your daughter. How can I be?" she whispered, uncertainty lacing her voice.
"Who says you are not our daughter?" Ms. Su interrupted gently. "Blood doesn't make a family, love does. And you, Lianfeng, are loved." Her words wrapped around Huanxin like a warm embrace, dissolving the barriers that had long isolated her heart.
Huanxin felt a swell of emotion as tears spilled over. "Thank you. I will never forget your kindness," she said, her voice breaking. She rushed forward, wrapping her arms around Ms. Su, feeling the warmth and security mother's love could provide.
Ms. Su returned the embrace, her heart full. "Silly child, who says thank you to family?" she replied softly, her voice soothing like a balm to Huanxin's troubled soul.
As Huanxin pulled back, wiping her tears, a quiet resolve settled within her. I can carry both my past and this new life. I can serve justice for my tribe and find my place here. In her heart, she envisioned a future where she could embrace her past and her new family.
At that moment, amidst the dust and warmth of the attic, Lianfeng felt the first stirrings of hope, her heart whispering promises of a future intertwined with love, legacy, and resilience.
"Let's clean the attic quickly. You have to help me prepare lunch today," Ms. Su said, breaking the silence.
Lianfeng nodded. "Yes."
As they moved to the kitchen, Huanxin felt a sense of belonging she had long yearned for. Chopping vegetables and stirring pots, she listened as Ms. Su shared stories of family gatherings—the laughter and love that filled their home. Each tale made her feel more entwined in their world.
Suddenly, the kitchen door swung open, and Wu Hi entered, her face bright with enthusiasm. "Lianfeng! Help me with my training later! I need someone to spar with!"
The invitation sparked excitement in Lianfeng. "I'd love to!" she replied, a smile breaking across her face.
After lunch, Lianfeng stepped into the training yard, the sun casting a warm golden glow across the ground. The rhythmic sound of Wu Hi's sword slicing through the air filled the space, accompanied by distant birdsong. When Wu Hi spotted her, her face lit up with infectious enthusiasm. "Come, Lianfeng!" she shouted.
As they trained, Lianfeng felt the sunlight on her skin. Wu Hi demonstrated fluid movements, her sword glinting in the sunlight. Lianfeng mirrored her actions, her body awakening to the rhythm of the martial arts, every swing and block feeling like a dance.
"See? You're a natural!" Wu Hi cheered, her sword raised in triumph. "You'll be a master in no time." Lianfeng's pride swelled at the compliment, realizing this connection with Wu Hi was forging a sisterly bond.
"Let's try this move together," Wu Hi suggested, demonstrating a complex maneuver. They began again, the swords singing as they met with force and purpose. Each swing felt liberating, a joyful dance of trust and connection.
"After this, we should celebrate your progress with a feast!" Wu Hi said, eyes sparkling.
"Absolutely!" Lianfeng replied, feeling the warmth envelop her.
Later that evening, as they gathered for dinner, Huanxin took a moment to observe the warmth of the family around her. Laughter echoed, and stories flowed freely, each person contributing to the tapestry of their shared lives. It struck her then how she had longed for this sense of belonging.
"Lianfeng, would you like to share a story?" Wu Hi asked, breaking Huanxin's reverie.
Feeling a mix of vulnerability and courage, Huanxin took a deep breath. "There's one story that always stands out to me," she began, her voice steadying as she recounted a moment from her past that shaped her resilience. "It was a time when I learned to fight back against my fears...."
As she shared her story, she felt the weight of her past shift, no longer a burden but a piece of her journey that had led her to this moment. The Wu family listened intently, their support wrapping around her like a protective cocoon.
As the night drew to a close, Lianfeng felt a sense of peace within her. The family that had once felt distant now embraced her, and she knew she would have their love and support forever.
Sitting on her bed, she turned the hairpin over in her fingers, recalling vibrant memories associated with it. It was the only remnant of her past—her tribe, her family, her childhood. As a child, she wore it proudly during festivals, where laughter filled the air and the fragrance of flowers enveloped her. It was more than an ornament; it symbolized joy and love.
Closing her eyes, Lianfeng was transported back to her village. She could see her mother, her smile radiant as she tucked the hairpin into Lianfeng's hair. "You are looking so beautiful," her mother would say, her voice soothing like a lullaby.
She smiled at it, but the smile was tinged with sorrow. This hairpin had once been a symbol of joy, worn on the happiest days.
She stepped outside into the courtyard, where the stars shimmered like scattered jewels in the dark sky. The moon cast a soft glow over the stone path, and a cool breeze stirred the air, carrying the sweet scent of flowers. For a moment, the peaceful night made her feel at ease, but deep inside, her heart stirred with an old, familiar ache.
As Lianfeng stood in the courtyard, the stars shimmering above, her thoughts drifted to the last time she had felt so vulnerable. As she reflected on her past, a particular memory surged to the forefront of her mind: she had been desperately searching for help, her stomach growling with hunger.
Desperation had clawed at her heart then, urging her to plead with strangers. One man had approached her, eyes glinting with opportunity. "Do you want money?" he had asked. Hope ignited in her chest as she nodded.
"Then give me that hairpin," he had demanded, pointing at the delicate ornament woven into her hair.
Huanxin had shaken her head fiercely, clutching the hairpin to her chest. It was the last remnant of her family, a precious token of her past. "No, I can't," she whispered, her voice trembling.
His anger had flared, turning his curiosity into disdain. "Why are you begging for money? You're wearing a precious hairpin!" With that, he had stormed away, leaving her feeling even more isolated and worthless.
With trembling hands, she had removed the hairpin, cradling it as if it were a fragile memory. Unable to bear losing it, she tucked it safely into her pocket, continuing her search for spare coins, her heart heavy with the weight of her loss.
The flashback ended and she looked up at the sky, she murmured, "Mother, Father... I've found a new family. They treat me with the same love you did, and they've given me a place to belong. I have a sister now," she smiled.
Her smile was soft, but her gaze turned sharp as she held the hairpin tighter. The memories of her tribe—of the injustice that had befallen them—rose within her like a fire. "But I will never forget our tribe. I'll never forget what happened to us."
Her voice grew stronger, filled with quiet resolve. "I will find the one responsible, and I will make sure they pay. I owe our tribe that justice."
The stars above seemed to shine brighter as if her ancestors were listening and waiting for her to fulfill her promise. The weight of her vow settled over her, but it didn't feel like a burden—it was a purpose, one she was determined to see through.
Huanxin stood a little straighter, her heart steady. Her new family had given her a new life, but it didn't erase her old one. She could accept their love and still carry her past with her.
With a deep breath, she walked back towards the house, her decision clear. She entered her room quietly, the wooden floor creaking beneath her feet. Moonlight filtered through the small window, casting faint shadows across the room. Kneeling by her bed, Huanxin reached underneath and pulled out a small, worn wooden box.
Opening the lid, she stared at the hairpin in her hand—her last tie to the life she had left behind. The delicate metal caught the light, shimmering faintly as if whispering the laughter and warmth of her tribe. For a long moment, she held it close to her chest, feeling the weight of her memories and the ache of everything she had lost.
But she knew this part of her life had to be set aside for now.
With a steady hand, she placed the hairpin inside. It wasn't a goodbye—it was a promise. A vow that she would carry her past forward, even as she became Lianfeng. Huanxin was not forgotten—just waiting for the right moment.
She slid the box back beneath the bed as if tucking her childhood away for safekeeping. Rising, she lay on her bed, her body sinking into the familiar comfort. Closing her eyes, she let the quiet of the night wash over her. For the first time in a long time, her mind was at peace.
Tomorrow, I will be Lianfeng.