The tension in the Yip household was suffocating, each passing moment adding weight to the oppressive atmosphere. Yip Chor paced anxiously in the dimly lit hallway, the cold air seeping into his bones, matching the chill that ran through his veins. As the firstborn, he felt the sharp sting of exclusion. He should have been inside the study, engaged in the discussions that demanded secrecy and the presence of the family's men.

The day had begun with an unsettling air of meticulous orchestration. Three days had passed since the incident, and the unfolding events seemed to follow a precise script. Carriages arrived, their arrival symbolizing the departure of the mourning Lin family, their deceased patriarch, and Lin Hua, her face etching a haunting image in Yip Chor's memory.

Yip Chor had observed the departure from one of the pagodas nestled on the mountainside. For a brief moment, their eyes met—Lin Hua's piercing blue gaze locking with his own. At that moment, he held her gaze without shame. Beyond her beauty and cultivation, she was still his betrothed, regardless of the allegations against her and the 'annulment' of their marriage by his brothers. She was still meant to be his wife. Regardless of all the fear he had felt since the match had been made, now, it was replaced by this feeling that he needed to protect what was his. Yip Chor hoped to convey his support through his eyes, a silent promise to stand by her. And for the first time, something other than coldness and pride flickered in Lin Hua's eyes. It was a plea, a plea to be understood. But just as quickly, she averted her gaze, and the moment was lost.

In that instant, Yip Chor felt an overwhelming urge to rush down and tell Lin Hua to wait, to insist that there must be some mistake. But his legs seemed weighed down, and his feet refused to budge. The biting words of the Lin Patriarch echoed through his mind, each syllable piercing his soul: "He lacks cultivation, constitution, and courage." The truth of those words stung deeply. He was nothing but a useless bystander.

Since that fateful moment, Yip Chor had become a cog, loose and abandoned, in a grand design orchestrated by his brothers. They vanished into the shadows, only to reappear later, their actions cloaked in secrecy and purpose. Servants were dismissed, Lin's family belongings were removed, and guests from neighbouring families were received. A new wave of servants arrived, and Yip Chor couldn't escape the growing suspicion that his family was slowly taking control of the Lin estate, like tendrils of a creeping vine choking out its surroundings.

He yearned for answers, for a glimpse into the intricate workings of his family's scheme. Yet, he remained on the periphery, a forgotten pawn in a game that he couldn't comprehend. The closed doors of the study became an impenetrable barrier, shutting him out from the secrets within. The raised voices that seeped through the cracks only heightened his sense of exclusion and isolation, reminding him of his diminishing relevance in the grand plan.

In his desperate attempt to glean any fragment of information, Yip Chor stood outside the study, his ear pressed against the cold, unyielding wood. Muffled voices drifted out, teasing his ears with incomplete words and fragmented sentences. The room beyond was a fortress of secrets, where decisions were made without his input. The realization struck him like a blow, amplifying his feeling of insignificance.

Now, Yip Chor stood outside the study, straining to catch any fragments of conversation that slipped through the tightly closed doors. The sounds of raised voices pressed into his ears, and he almost burst into the study when he heard his father and grandfather screaming in rage.

Suddenly, the door to the study burst open, catching Yip Chor off guard. He stumbled forward, trailing the swinging door as he fell. Before him stood his father, his face vacant and stunned. The sight was jarring. His father had always seemed a powerful figure, always in control. But now, he had tears in his eyes. When he saw that his son Yip Chor stood before him, He roughly grabbed him into a warm embrace and kissed his neck. Yip Chor stood frozen, his mind unable to process the sudden shift in his father's demeanour. Beyond his father, his brothers and grandfather observed the scene with measured gazes, their expressions inscrutable. His grandfather shook his head, a silent gesture of resignation.

"Come, my son, you must follow me." Yip Bin's voice had a shakiness that startled Yip Chor. Under the gloaming sky, Yip Bin led his son to the kitchen. The smell of warm food wafted from the stove, contrasting sharply with the chilling reality that lurked nearby - it was close to sundown.

"Son, you must eat. We don't have much time." His voice wavered, his eyes fraught with concern. Yip Chor, a little perplexed by this sudden urgency, obediently followed his father's instructions. A bizarre sense of foreboding started creeping in.

Their quiet meal was interrupted by the entry of Yip Chor's grandfather. His sigh echoed in the silence, amplifying the gravity of their situation, "Son, the sun is setting. The border is a long journey away." His words were heavy, laden with sorrow and regret. Yip Bin nodded in response, his heart sinking a little more.

With a swift motion, Yip Bin gestured for Yip Chor to follow him. As they made their way through the house, Yip Bin's shout for his wife reverberated through the silence. His mother's confusion mirrored his own as she embraced him, but before they could exchange words, they were outside, being led towards the stables.

Their swift ride against the backdrop of the setting sun brought an air of grim reality to Yip Chor. The silent acceptance of his fate was set in; he was being separated from his family. The realisation was as chilling as the wind that brushed against his face, as desolate as the far-reaching forest around them. His thoughts circled back to a moment in his youth when he and his brothers were walking in a glade next to his house when a little fledgling bird fell from its nest. In an attempt to orient itself, the small creature had blindly pecked at the dew-covered grass, disoriented and separated from the warmth of its mother's breast.

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"Ah look, a bird, it has been pushed out of its nest! Quickly we must save it!"

He had run to the bird and picked it up ever so gently, his brothers looking on.

"You should crush it!" Quinfan had stated, as a matter of fact.

"...that would be so much fun, let's see guts!, let's see guts!" continued Lixin in their way.

"What?! No! That would be too cruel!"

"Why, it's not wanted! It's too weak to survive!"

"Crush It, Crush IT!" Chanted Lixin in the background.

"No, I will not crush it."

"If you don't I will!" Seeing that Yip Chor wasn't going to crush the bird and continued petting it while picking grass off its wings, Quinfan rammed bodily into Yip Chor, causing him to fall on his back. They tussled in the dirt for a while, but Quinfan overpowered him when Yip Chor began gasping for breath, wheezing, his throat constricting in a breathing attack.

Yip Quinfan stood up and offered a hand to Yip Chor, and Yip Chor reflexively reached out to grasp that hand... only to realise that in their tussle he had constricted his fist and killed the bird, blood and wet entrails dripping from his palm. His brother looked on and stated, "It needed to be done... and you were too weak to do it."

In the background, he heard Lixin shouting "Guts! Yay!"

He knew his brothers, and he knew Quinfan. Now, he was the little bird, he was sure about it. His heart started racing, surely Quinfan wouldn't kill him the way he killed the Lin Patriarch. It was possible, absolutely he knew it! No, he wouldn't or his father wouldn't have fed him. Or maybe that was his last meal? Thoughts like these blitzed through his mind like wildfire, racing in rhythm with the pounding hooves beneath him, as he journeyed with his father towards the border.

There at the frontier, Yip Chor found a semblance of resignation within him. If death was to be his end, then perhaps it wouldn't be such a terrible fate. His frailty would likely steal his life in a few years, regardless. And Lin Hua, she would be better off without him. Freed from the constraints of marital duty, she could find happiness with a man better suited to her standing. It was for the best if he was to depart this world.

"We've reached our destination, my son. You must flee now, head to that village. I can't return here without risking your life. I love you, you must go. Now! Here is some money."

Yip Bin embraced his son once more, then gently nudged him towards the clearing that led to the village nestled in the valley. But barely had Yip Chor taken two strides, a thunderous voice interrupted the moment.

"Halt! Yip Chor, shed your clothes and hand them to our father."

"Please, Quinfan! Spare him this disgrace!"

"Clothes. Now."

"It's alright, Father." Resigned, Yip Chor began undressing under the hawk-eyed scrutiny of his younger brother, Quinfan, and Lixin, both newly arrived on their Ironbacked mounts. Layer by layer, he shed his clothes, revealing a body hauntingly skeletal. He'd always been slim, but his recent affliction had exacerbated his frailty. A case of weak lungs, the physicians said.

Preserving his last shred of dignity, he turned his back as he removed his undergarments and shoes. Then, he stood there, naked, hunched, and shivering under the biting cold, as his father collected the discarded garments, his face a canvas of devastation and unsaid sorrow. Yip Chor found himself drawing parallels to a fledgling, fallen prematurely from its nest. Both unwanted, rejected, and marked by a destiny of solitude. He braced himself for what was to come, a wave of tragic acceptance washing over him.

"Go, my son. Go to the village, quickly, before the cold claims you," Yip Bin's voice wavered, fraught with heartbreak and resignation.

"No, you are naught but bones, and bones belong in the graveyard," Quinfan's voice sliced through the cold, his command allowing no room for dispute. He leaned forward resting on his saddle handle and gestured with a lazy finger towards the mound of white stones that marked the final abode of the departed.

Yip Bin, swallowed by despair, turned and briskly ascended the hill towards Quinfan. As he treaded the steep path, he grabbed a rock, hurling it at his younger son. The impact was insignificant, the stone bouncing harmlessly off Quinfan's armoured chest. But the act was symbolic, a desperate cry, a physical manifestation of a father's heart-wrenching anguish.

Pointing an accusing finger at Quinfan, he shouted, "You murderous child, he is your flesh and blood! You're sending him to his death!"

"Quinfan, this is too much. Let him go, please," Lixin pleaded softly, trying to reach the heart under his brother's icy armour. Tears welled up in his eyes as he watched their father break down, and his brother stand, shivering, under the merciless night sky.

Quinfan was on the verge of conceding, swayed by the shared sorrow flowing through their familial connection. But Lixin's next words hardened his resolve,

"Please, brother, just this once, deviate from the Dao."

His path was set, and he would not deviate from it.

With measured movements, Quinfan dismounted his steed, strolling past his father towards Yip Chor. The contrast between their frames was almost comical - the hunched, emaciated figure of his older brother stood naked against his formidable armoured presence.

Stretching out his arm, Quinfan embraced Yip Chor, a gesture not exchanged since their separation when Quinfan left for the celestial city. Yip Chor braced for a crushing grip, contemplating that perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to die in the warm arms of his brother rather than in the biting cold. Instead, Quinfan gently kissed his forehead and whispered into his ear.

"Big brother, I missed you these last few years, it was good to see you again. But now, we must once again part. Head to the cemetery. We will meet again in the next life."

Yip Chor lifted his arms to reciprocate the embrace, his skeletal body trembling against the cold firmness of his brother's armour.

"Quinfan'er, I forgive you," he murmured, his breath trembling in the biting cold.

The bitter wind blew across the clearing, gnawing at Yip Chor's naked form. Each step he took towards the graveyard seemed to drain him further, the weight of his existence bearing down heavily upon his skeletal shoulders.

As he reached the boundary of the graveyard, he turned back one last time, his eyes reflecting resignation and a faint glimmer of peace. He looked at his weeping father and whispered, "Goodbye Father, please do not weep for me."

Yip Bin's heart shattered as he watched his son vanish into the abyss of the night, the wailing wind swallowing his cries of despair. He sank to his knees, clutching the garments of his departed son. The anguish of losing his child, condemning him to such a cruel fate, was agony beyond words.

In the distance, Yip Chor stumbled through the pitch black, his body weakened and numbed by the biting cold. He accepted his fate, fully aware that he had been expelled into the icy void, forsaken by his kin, abandoned by the world. His breath grew shallow, and the light within him dimmed, but his heart remained resilient.

As he collapsed onto the frost-laden earth, a wave of tranquillity swept over him. And as the night cradled him in its icy hold, the desolate wind whispered his name, a whispered prayer for the lost and forgotten soul—Yip Chor, a fledgling fallen prematurely from its nest, cast into the inky darkness, carrying acceptance and forgiveness in its brittle wings.