Cursed by Ancient Love, Redeemed by Modern Hearts

Xinyi: A Meeting With a Shadow of the Past

Two days.

That was how long she had to wait.

But Liang Xinyi never waited.

She moved. She calculated, strategized, anticipated.

Yet as she stood outside the dimly lit teahouse, something unusual coiled in her chest.

It wasn't hesitation. It was recognition.

Recognition that this meeting was a step into dangerous territory.

The scent of aged pu-erh curled through the misty air, sinking into the very walls of the old establishment. This place had stood for decades, untouched by time—just like the person waiting inside.

A figure whose existence lingered between two legacies.

A Liang by name. A Zhang by blood. A branch that connected both families, yet belonged to neither.

Someone who should have been affected by the curse.

And yet… he wasn't.

She stepped forward.

The host recognized her immediately, bowing before leading her through the maze of private rooms.

Then—the door slid open.

A man sat across a low wooden table, pouring tea with the same measured precision that had always unnerved her.

There was an elegance to him. A quiet, composed presence, draped in fine but unassuming silks. Not loud, not ostentatious—yet impossible to ignore.

He didn't look up.

"Xinyi."

His voice was smooth, as if this was just another evening, not the first time they had spoken in years.

"You always were impatient."

She closed the door behind her, taking the seat across from him.

"You said you knew something."

"I know many things." He set the teapot down, finally meeting her gaze. His eyes—dark, sharp, knowing—didn't belong to a man untouched by the curse.

Yet he was.

Xinyi studied him in the dim candlelight. He looked the same as ever—untouched by the weight of a legacy he should have inherited.

"The curse," she said, watching him carefully. "It's happening again."

He exhaled, a bit resigned, as if she had merely confirmed something he already knew.

"The question isn't why it's happening," he murmured, picking up his teacup. "The question is… why now?"

Xinyi kept her expression neutral. "You tell me."

His lips curved slightly. "Do you remember what I told you as a child?"

She did. She had never forgotten.

"Blood remembers, even when the mind does not."

Back then, she had thought it was just another one of his poetic musings.

Now, she wasn't so sure.

"You think this was inevitable," she said flatly.

"Not inevitable." He sipped his tea, unbothered. "Delayed."

Xinyi's fingers curled against her lap.

A delay meant it was always meant to return.

"Tell me what you know." Her voice was sharp now. No patience left.

He studied her, slow, deliberate.

Then, he finally set his cup down.

"The curse never truly faded.

It simply… waited."

...

Wei: The Edge of Logic

The name had come through an encrypted message.

Wei tapped his fingers against the screen, reading it over once. Twice.

Dr. Elias Qiao

Forensic Consultant | Industrial Medical Auditor

"Reputation clean?" he asked without looking up.

Feng nodded. "Impeccable. If anything, too clean."

Wei smirked. Too clean meant they had their own secrets.

Still, it was the best lead he had.

He leaned back. "Call him. Set a meeting."

...

The Medical Review

Wei arrived at the hospital precisely on time.

The attending physician greeted him with the stiff politeness reserved for powerful men who disrupted daily routines.

"CEO Zhang," the doctor began, adjusting his glasses. "We've completed the review."

Wei waited.

"The collapsed workers… There's no trace of toxins, no respiratory issues, no brain hemorrhages or internal damage. Everything, medically speaking, is… normal."

Wei's jaw tensed.

The doctor hesitated before adding, "But the one who hasn't woken up… his brain activity is unusual."

Wei's gaze sharpened. "Define unusual."

The doctor exhaled. "It's as if he's asleep, but his neural scans suggest something closer to—" A pause. "—a near-dreamlike state. Almost like… he's trapped."

Silence.

Wei folded his arms. "And the worker who quit?"

"Completely healthy." The doctor glanced at the report. "But his psychological evaluation was odd. He claimed he felt something before he collapsed. Something watching."

Wei's fingers tapped against the table.

Watching.

That same fear his workers wouldn't name.

He made a mental note.

"Nice. Something different. A clue."

Then, almost absently, he added:

"We might need to pay him a visit."

...

Two Figures on the Edge of Truth

Miles away, Xinyi's fingers curled around her cup, watching the man across from her.

She knew this game well. He would not give without taking.

"If you're right," she said slowly, "then tell me—what woke it up?"

His lips twitched at the corners. Not quite a smile. Not quite mockery.

Then he leaned forward, voice dropping just enough that it felt like a whisper only the walls should hear.

"That's the wrong question."

Xinyi's breath stilled for a fraction of a second.

The wrong question?

Before she could ask what he meant, he continued,

"The real question is—who?"