Chapter 19. Scars of the past
AT THE SAME TIME
MEI SHEN’S POINT OF VIEW:
The morning sun seeped softly through the cracked wooden shutters, casting long, gentle beams across the room. The stranger lay on the simple cot, breathing more steady than last night, but the worry nestled deep in my chest refused to loosen its grip. I sat beside him, stealing glances at his face, so familiar, yet distant, before my eyes drifted lower, to the faint lines breaking through the collar of his worn shirt. Old scars. Thin, pale, jagged trails etched into his skin like a secret map of battles fought and won. My fingers twitched, curiosity warring with caution.
"What are these?" I asked quietly, voice barely above a whisper as I carefully traced one of the scars with my fingertip.
He stiffened, eyes snapping toward mine, sharp and tired.
"Old wounds." He said, voice rough like gravel but soft enough to hear the truth beneath. "From a rebellion a few years back."
"A rebellion." I asked, leaning closer, heart beating erratically. "Was it fierce?"
He swallowed and looked away, the light catching the faint tremor in his jaw.
"More than you can imagine. It tore the land apart, the people with it."He said. "I worked it out in the end."
My breath hitched. The way he spoke carried weight something personal, something heavy.
"And... why were you there? Why did you fight?" I pressed gently, careful not to sound too eager.
His eyes met mine again, dark and clouded, like they held a storm behind them.