       â  INTRODUCING ćžžèŸć€ CHANG HUIYE  â                twenty-five.  disciple, minor clan.
[ HE ] who wields XINGHAIÂ and his trusted WIND-AND-FIRE WHEELS, XIEZI. skilled in SUPERIOR SWORDSMANSHIP. his ultimate desire? TO BE FREE.
[ tw: blood and abuse ] fealty.
an audible scoff cuts through the silence at the end of his fatherâs long-winded tirade. the sound had elicited from his mouth after an hour of kneeling, fingers curling into tight fists with anticipation. a split moment passes, and no one comes to his rescue. no one dares to diffuse the situation, and he doesnât blame them. his fatherâs anger is his to brunt.
he hears his fatherâs heavy footsteps, full of uncontrollable rage. his socked feet appear in front of him, but he remains unmoving, teeth clenching with his eyes downcast. his father raises a hand, and there is no hesitation. it hadnât been a threat, but a purposeful punishment. his father had grown tired of his disobedience.
what he failed to realize was that he was no longer a child. there was no pleasing his father, and he refused to bend over backwards for the old man until he took his final breath. he wasnât willing to offer unquestionable loyalty to someone that treated others like they were expendable.
palm meets cheek, knuckles meet cheekbone. he doesnât flinch. he doesnât bother to lift his hands up to protect his face. he doesnât cry out or fight back.
instead, he laughs past the stinging pain, finally lifting his head to look at his father. his expression was covered partly in a shadow, and he wonders when the sun had set. his father slows down drastically, but the pain feels unquestionably real. he discerns that he must be dreaming, feeling his heart pounding in his chest with adrenaline.
he moves, at last, taking advantage of his fatherâs exhaustion to scrabble to his feet. he doesnât attack back or waits for another strike, but he instead he runs without looking back.
he runs and runs until he reaches a waterfall, lungs protesting and demanding an actual breath. he steps closer to the edge of the cliff, taking several quick gasps until he caught his breath. he reaches up to touch his mouth, fingers smearing with blood. he grimaced at the sight, wiping his hand against the fabric of his robe.
the sound of the roaring waters had silenced his mind, and his chest no longer ached. he took a deep breath before utilizing the adrenaline he felt earlier and stepping off the cliff, allowing gravity to take over. he wonders how cold the water would be, knowing the cold temperature would be a shock to his system. the sun wasnât out to warm him up when he resurfaced, but he closed his eyes and â
he jerks awake with a soft gasp, feeling completely disoriented. he turns to press his face against the pillow, not caring for the blurriness of his vision. he embraces himself around his waist to shield himself from the unrelenting coldness of reality.
