The Feng estate burned like a funeral pyre, its golden rooftiles curling into ash under the relentless flames. Feng Wei's maniacal laughter cut through the crackling roar, a jagged sound that grated against Ruoxi's ears as she stood at the edge of the chaos. The night sky above Hangzhou glowed an unnatural orange, painting her face in flickering shadows. She didn't flinch as a beam crashed somewhere deep within the mansion, sending sparks spiraling into the air. This wasn't her home—not anymore, not ever.
Xiao Zheng stood beside her, his broad frame tense, one hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. "It's over, Ruoxi," he said, his voice low and steady, the kind of tone he used when he thought she needed anchoring. "You're free of them now." His dark eyes flicked to her, searching for something—relief, maybe, or grief. She gave him neither.
