Chapter Text
Chapter 1: The House of Echoes
Yang stood outside the old family house, its walls cloaked in shadows as the sun set behind the mountains. The wind, soft but insistent, seemed to carry whispers from the past, calling to him in a language he couldn't understand. It was almost as if the house, this once-grand family home, had its own soul—a soul that mourned its lost occupants.
His chest tightened as he stepped inside, the familiar creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet sending a chill down his spine. The house felt empty. Silent. Too silent.
He had been to this house countless times in his life, but never like this. The smell of damp wood, the scent of something burning in the hearth—these things he recognized. But it was the silence that clung to the walls like a thick fog, the kind of silence that only came after death.
It was here, in this very room, that his life had shattered into pieces. He had been young, only in his early twenties, when he had come back home from the marketplace that fateful day. It was supposed to be a normal visit. Tian had promised to make dinner, and Jiu had been there, as always, with his warm smile and easy charm.
But when Yang stepped into the house, he had found the doors wide open. The lanterns that should have been lit were cold, unlit. His breath caught in his throat, his feet unwilling to move as his mind raced to understand what his eyes were seeing.
There, in the small sitting room, Tian and Jiu lay sprawled on the floor. Their bodies were twisted in unnatural angles, the air thick with the stench of blood. Tian’s body was pale, his lifeless eyes staring at nothing, while Jiu’s face was frozen in an expression of pain, his hand still outstretched toward Tian as if he had tried to protect him in his final moments.
The scene before him felt unreal, too horrific to be true, yet Yang could feel the truth in the air—his brother, the brother he had grown up with, the one who had always been kind and gentle, had been murdered. And not just him. Jiu, the man who had made Tian smile, who had held his heart, was also gone.
The weight of it crushed Yang. His hands trembled as he reached out to touch Tian’s face, feeling the cold skin beneath his fingertips. His heart pounded in his chest, but it wasn’t fear. It was something much darker. Betrayal. Anger. A fury that he had never known before.
It had to be their father. No one else had the power or the malice to do something like this. Yang had always known that his father harbored dark secrets, but he had never imagined it would come to this—to murder his own son and his son’s lover simply for loving each other.
Yang’s fists clenched at his sides as the truth washed over him like a tidal wave. His father had done this. It was the only explanation that made sense.
The old man had always been a figure of power, of control. He had ruled the family with an iron fist, demanding loyalty and obedience above all else. And when Tian had dared to defy him, to live his life freely with Jiu, the price had been death.
Yang had felt helpless. There was nothing he could do to stop it. The law of the land was not kind to men like Tian and Jiu, men who loved each other in a world that would never accept them. And in the eyes of their father, their love had been nothing more than a betrayal, a dishonor to the family name.
The pain that ripped through Yang was unlike anything he had ever felt. He could still see Tian’s face—calm, even in death, as though he had accepted his fate. And Jiu, with his warm eyes, his love for Tian evident in every glance he’d ever given him.
Yang collapsed to his knees beside them, his hands shaking as he gently closed their eyes, as though it would bring them peace.
“I should have been here,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I should have protected you both.”
But the truth was, Yang had been too late. His world, their world, had been torn apart in one swift, brutal moment.
As he knelt in the cold, empty house, Yang could feel the weight of grief pressing down on him. The loss of his brother, the loss of his brother’s love—he would never be the same. The emptiness in his chest felt like a gaping wound that could never heal. He was alone now. Alone with his father’s cruelty and the bitter realization that he would never see his brother smile again.
And yet, even in the depths of his despair, one thought burned brightly in his mind: He would make their father suffer for this.
Yang didn’t know how, but he would find a way. He would make sure their deaths were not in vain.