Chapter 4: Echoes in the Core
Jin woke to the sound of soft string vibrations echoing through the pavilion. Morning mist clung to the air like memory, curling around the wooden beams and drifting between the lanterns.
Mei Lian was already up, her back to him, her fingers weaving a slow, somber song into the dawn.
He listened without speaking. Each note carried something raw —grief layered with longing, stitched with something else he couldn't name. Her music stirred the air, and for a moment, it felt like the mist itself responded, swirling with the rhythm.
"You play like someone trying to forget, something" he said quietly.
She paused, but didn't turn around. "That's because I am."
Silence hung between them. Not heavy—but familiar. Jin rose slowly, his joints stiff from the hard floor, and walked to the edge of the pavilion. The sun crept over the horizon, setting the distant mountains aglow.
"You said my core is sealed," he said. "Can it be opened?"
Mei stood and turned to face him. Her expression was unreadable, her golden eyes calm, but intense. "It can. But not by force."
He folded his arms. "Then how?"
She stepped closer, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her presence. "Through resonance. You'll need to confront what lies beneath it. The part of you you've buried."
Jin's throat tightened. "That's not very specific."
She tilted her head. "You're afraid."
"I'm angry," he shot back. "Everyone says I'm broken. Worthless. Even when I give everything I have, it's never enough."
Her voice softened. "Then start there. Play your rage."
He stared at her, his chest heaving, before sitting cross-legged again, the old guqin balanced on his lap.
His fingers hesitated. Then struck.
The sound was wild—raw and uneven. Notes clashed against each other, uncontrolled and sharp. Each pluck like a curse. He thought of his childhood, of begging outside sect gates. Of the teachers who had turned him away. Of the mocking sneers, the bruises, the hunger.
He kept playing.
The air around him thickened. The wind rose, howling through the pavilion. Lanterns trembled. The strings beneath his fingers began to glow faintly.
"Keep going!" Mei's voice rang over the chaos. "Let it out!"
His vision blurred as something deep within him stirred—an ache, a pressure in his chest, like a knot twisting tighter and tighter. His core. The seal.
A sudden pulse ripped through his body.
Pain lanced through his ribs. The guqin snapped—a clean crack down the middle—and the world seemed to still.
Jin gasped and fell forward, coughing violently.
Mei was beside him in an instant, her hands glowing as she pressed her palm to his back. "Breathe. Don't fight it."
The pain faded into a strange warmth—a tingling buzz in his limbs. When he sat up, his whole body felt… lighter.
"I felt it," he whispered. "Something moved."
Mei nodded. "The seal is weakening. You cracked it."
He looked at her with wide eyes. "That was just from feeling something?"
She smiled faintly. "Strong emotions are the purest form of qi in the old ways. Love. Rage. Sorrow. Lust. When channeled through sound, they can shape reality."
Jin wiped sweat from his brow. "Then what happens if I… feel too much?"
She met his gaze with a seriousness that chilled him. "Then you'll either transcend… or be consumed."
---
That night, they built a fire outside the pavilion. Mei handed Jin a bowl of soup while tending a small kettle.
"You should rest," she said. "You've burned more than you realize."
Jin didn't argue. His body was sore in ways he didn't know existed.
Still, his mind burned with questions.
"How do you know so much about this?" he asked between sips.
Mei poked the fire with a stick, her expression unreadable. "Because I was trained in the Forbidden Lyric Sect."
Jin froze. "That sect was destroyed ten years ago."
She nodded. "By the Five Harmonious Clans. They feared what we could become."
"But I thought they practiced—"
"Emotional cultivation. Yes," she said, cutting him off. "But not all of us abused it. Some of us simply wanted to… understand it."
Jin's voice dropped. "What happened to your master?"
Mei stared into the fire for a long time. "She died trying to protect us."
The flames crackled.
"And now," she added softly, "I'm the last."
Jin swallowed hard. "Why teach me?"
She looked at him, and her gaze wasn't soft this time—it was fierce. "Because you have the one thing they couldn't destroy. A soul that refuses to be silenced."
He looked away, uncomfortable under the weight of her words. "I'm not special."
She leaned in slightly. "You will be. If you survive."
The fire danced between them, casting shadows that flickered like memories.
Jin cleared his throat. "So… when do we start again?"
Mei smiled—genuine this time. "At dawn. But next time, we dive deeper."
"Into what?"
She stood, the firelight catching the edge of her dark robe. "Your sorrow."
---
That night, as Jin lay beneath the stars, he could still feel the pulse of something new inside him—faint, but steady.
Not power.
Hope.