Chapter 3 — The Echo of Fate
818 Words
Night fell heavy and quiet.
Outside, the city lay under a sheet of snow,
the streets silent, the world painted in white.
Inside the penthouse, only one lamp was on.
Its warm light carved a soft glow on Ning Yu’s face.
He sat motionless on the sofa,
fingers tapping lightly against the table.
The glass of water beside him had long gone cold.
The dream had returned again.
The same snow.
The same execution ground.
The same woman in white, kneeling in the snow.
Her lips trembled,
her eyes clear and calm even as she faced death.
And then came his own voice—
“Imperial Physician Su Wan, guilty of malpractice. Execution by royal decree.”
It was cold, merciless,
and yet it was his voice.
Ning Yu woke with a sharp breath,
heart pounding painfully.
That ache wasn’t just from the dream.
It felt too real.
He pressed his palm against his chest.
For a moment, he swore he could still feel the weight of falling snow—
cold, heavy, unrelenting.
His eyes fell to the folder on the table.
The cover read: Sheng An Medical Center.
He had seen that name before,
but lately it had begun to haunt him—
just like that name in his dreams.
Su Wan.
He had asked his assistant to gather all their partner hospitals.
He hadn’t known why, until her name appeared on the very first page.
Attending Physician: Su Wan.
He froze.
The light flickered once, brushing over his fingers.
The paper trembled ever so slightly in his grip.
Her name looked ordinary,
but to him, it was like ashes blown from another lifetime,
falling quietly onto his heart.
He whispered, almost afraid to hear himself say it:
“Su Wan…”
The sound of it made his chest tighten.
It was a name that carried weight—
the kind that didn’t belong to this life.
---
Morning came with a pale light.
Without informing anyone, Ning Yu drove straight to Sheng An Hospital.
Snow brushed against his windshield,
soft and steady.
His phone kept buzzing—meetings, calls, contracts.
He ignored them all, answering only once:
“Cancel everything.”
When he stepped into the hospital,
the air hit him like a memory—
antiseptic, metal, a faint hum of machines.
He was only supposed to look around,
but the moment his gaze caught the glass wall ahead,
he stopped walking.
She was there.
White coat, tied-back hair, a pen tucked behind her ear.
Calm. Focused.
Her voice was soft but firm as she discussed a patient’s case with her team.
For a moment,
the hospital around him faded away,
and he saw her as she was in the snow—
kneeling, silent, the same eyes looking up at him in disbelief.
A sharp pain lanced through his chest.
He could almost hear his own voice again—
the decree,
the words that had killed her.
He had thought the dream would fade.
Now he realized—it wasn’t a dream at all.
It was memory.
---
She turned.
Their eyes met through the glass.
Time stopped.
For a heartbeat, she looked startled,
and something in her gaze flickered—
recognition, maybe.
Or fear.
He didn’t move. Neither did she.
It felt as if the air itself had frozen between them.
Then someone called, “Dr. Su.”
She turned back to the patient.
He stood there a few seconds longer before quietly leaving.
In the reflection on the glass,
his face looked like a stranger’s.
---
That night, the snow fell harder.
Ning Yu stood by the window,
the city below blurred beneath the white.
In his hand was the copy of her report.
Her name stared back at him,
simple letters that now carried the weight of fate.
He closed his eyes.
The dream came again—
the torches, the chains, the sound of her crying.
She looked up at him,
tears glimmering in the pale light.
“Your Majesty… why?”
Her voice trembled like glass breaking.
He jolted awake,
cold sweat sliding down his temples.
Moonlight cut across his wrist.
A faint red mark appeared there,
as if something invisible had bound him.
He rubbed at it—
but the mark didn’t fade.
His pulse quickened.
That wasn’t a dream.
It was destiny.
He looked out at the sleeping city.
The snow kept falling,
a quiet thread of white tying him to something far beyond his reach.
---
Across the city,
Su Wan stood by her own window.
The silver needle on her desk caught the same moonlight,
a thin glint of fate between light and shadow.
She lifted her eyes to the sky.
The snow was still falling.
For
reasons she couldn’t explain,
her heart tightened suddenly—
as if someone, somewhere,
was looking at the same snow,
and calling her name in silence.
---
The echo of fate had begun.
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