The cabin was a chaos of screaming wind and falling oxygen masks, but for Li Zhanxan, the world had slowed to a singular, rhythmic thumping in his chest. The plane was no longer flying; it was falling, a wounded metal beast plunging toward the darkened earth.

Through the window of First Class, the city lights below looked like scattered jewels. But Zhanxan wasn't looking at the lights. He was looking at the reflection in the glass  - the ghost of a man in silver armor, standing behind him.

"I spent this whole life running," Zhanxan whispered, the air thin and cold in his lungs.

"Running from my family, running from a "throne" I didn't want, running toward a shadow I couldn't touch."

He thought of the anonymous photographer. Of the ONLY person in this hollow world who seemed to breathe the same air as he did.

Based on the recent photos on XHS, he just knew that the architect was the same person.

For some reason, he felt that this was the one he had been searching for all along."

As the plane groaned, its wings straining against the atmospheric pressure, Zhanxan closed his eyes and let out a jagged, broken breath.

“If I have one more second,” he prayed, not to the Heavens that had cursed him, but to the void.

“I don't want the money. I don't want the legacy. I just wanted to see his face. I wish... I wish I had gotten to know you."

***

In the back of the plane, Hei Yanshan was no longer afraid.

The shaking was so violent that the cabin seemed to dissolve into a blur of grey and shadow. He clutched his camera bag to his chest like a shield.

He looked at the seat in front of him, then at the aisle. For a split second, the veil of the curse flickered.

He didn't see the panicked passengers. He saw a long, winding bridge made of white stone. And at the end of that bridge, a man was waiting.

He thought of the "L.Z." who had messaged him.

The man who lived in the light while he lived in the shadows. He realized now that the "connection timeout" wasn't a glitch.

It was a wall. And he had been too cowardly to climb it.

“I’m sorry,” Yanshan thought, a single tear freezing on his cheek as the plane’s nose dipped into a final, terminal dive.

"I was so afraid of being hurt or disappointed that I let you walk alone. If there is another life... I won't wait for a sign. I’ll find you. I wish... I wish I had known you in this one."

***

In the Heavenly Realm...

The Department of Reincarnation was silent. The red alerts had stopped. The screaming alarms had gone mute.

Official Wang and Junior Official Chen stood paralyzed before the master console. Two golden threads, ancient and frayed, were glowing with a light so intense it blinded the celestial sensors.

"They said it," Chen whispered, tears streaming down his face. "Simultaneous regret. The conditions are met."

The Paradox Monitor flashed one last time.

[CONDITION BREACHED: USER DESIRE OVERRIDES SYSTEM LOGIC.]

[CURSE STATUS: DISSOLVED.]

"The Red Thread is snapping back!" Wang shouted, diving for the controls.

"It’s pulling them out of the cycle! Chen, get the bridge ready!

They aren't going to the lower realms this time. They're coming straight to the crossing!"

***

The impact was a roar of white light. There was no pain, only the sudden, jarring sensation of silence.

Li Zhanxan opened his eyes. He wasn't in a seat. He wasn't in a suit.

He was standing in a place where the sky was the color of a bruised plum, and a vast, endless bridge of mist stretched out before him.

He looked down at his hands. They were steady. He looked across the bridge.

A few hundred yards away, a figure was emerging from the fog. A young man with a camera slung over his shoulder, looking around with wide, bewildered eyes.

Zhanxan’s heart, which had stopped beating in the world of the living, gave a phantom leap of recognition. He began to walk. Then, he began to run.