Anxiety rode in waves through Yiran’s mind. He hadn’t seen his mother since the day she’d left him at Song Mansion. They hadn’t had much, but he remembered being happy. There’d been no judgment or any sense that he hadn’t lived up to someone else’s expectations. But that was the lens of a six-year-old boy, and he wasn’t sure if he could trust it. His mother had never made a single attempt to contact him. Maybe that lens was distorted. Maybe he’d deluded himself over the years and painted something happier over his memories, the same way he did about his inherent ability and what his grandfather had put him through.
Maybe his mother had never loved him at all.
Wanting to take his mind off her, Yiran asked, “Why don’t you cast the spell on yourself and become a Hybrid to lead your little army of miscreants? Why do you remain human?”
His father’s brow furrowed at Yiran’s belligerent tone. “We don’t know if the transfer of yinqi would work on someone who possesses a high level of yangqi, and we don’t know what it would do to their innate ability to wield magic. It hasn’t been tested or proven yet.”
It was theyetthat caught Yiran’s attention. The rogue spell must’ve been used on people with ordinary spirit cores only. Normies. Accordingto Yuki, not all test subjects had survived. It made sense, since Yiran was quite sure that Song Liming regarded normies as expendable objects. People with strong spirit cores were rare and born in fewer numbers, and they were a special resource. They also tended to be recruited by Xingshan Academy and the Exorcist Guild.
Yet.
The word poked at Yiran’s brain. Was his father planning to test it on people with magic at some point? Where would he find such test subjects? Yiran couldn’t imagine any Exorcist or even a member of the underground magic community who would be willing to take such a risk.
He sneered at his father. Despite Song Liming’s desire for a grand revolution toward a supposedly better world, washereluctant to make sacrifices?
“Too chicken to try the spell on yourself?” Yiran goaded. “If it works, wouldn’t it give you an advantage? Make you more powerful?”
Unbothered by his son’s provocations, Liming replied calmly. “Revolutions live and die by their leaders. Theidea sparks the fire, but for the spark to turn into a blaze, you need strength and the will to do what needs to be done. However unsavory. I believe I have that will, and ifIam to lead it—even as a martyr eventually—then first it is my duty to convince others that my cause is just. It would be shortsighted to try the spell on myself while our movement is still in its infancy.”
“Sounds self-serving and cowardly to me.”
“Like I said, I need to first convince many others of the legitimacy of what I’m pursuing, including my own son.”
My own son.Yiran shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“I do find it interesting that you would consider casting such a spell on yourself to gain more power,” his father said.
“I was calling out your hypocrisy. How can you lead when you’re not the one taking risks? How can you be okay with exploiting other people for your so-called movement?” Yuki had suffered from the hungerthe night before, and Yiran was certain that normies like Noah suffered justas much after they transformed. “You’re preying on the vulnerable and desperate,” he said. “Are they even aware of the life they’ll lead after turning into Hybrids?”
“It’s predatory only from yourperspective. We don’t coerce anyone. Any Hybrid or person with an ordinary spirit core is free to join us if they wish. They do so of their own free will because they believe in the cause.”
“But Noah—”
“Noah knew what he was getting into,” his father cut in. “He makes no excuses for himself.”
Yiran wondered if his father was implying thatYiranwas making excuses.
“You choose to impose your views, your norms, your morality and principles on others without walking a day in their shoes,” his father continued. “What makes you think you know better? What makes you think Noah would’ve wanted otherwise? The vulnerable, the exploited and the powerless—all I’m doing is giving them an opportunity to fight back and take control of their lives. Take Yuki—he was in a bad state when we took him in and gave him shelter when he needed it most.” His father’s expression turned contemplative. “And what a special one he’s turned out to be.”
Yiran hated how reasonable Song Liming sounded. He turned toward the window, refusing to talk anymore.
Soon they left the skyscrapers and glitzy condos of the city. Blocks and blocks of apartments, looking like carbon copies of each other, zoomed past, eventually giving way to factory buildings. As they went north, the landscape changed from gray to a brownish green speckled with snow.
Yiran had never gone this way up the peninsula before. Song family vacations, if there were any, were always on the eastern shoreline with its golden sands and gentle tides. The west coast was more rugged. Storm-blue waters ran parallel to the coastal road they merged onto, crashing against the cliffs. Not long after, they entered a small town by the restless sea, and his father pulled the car over on a street.
Song Liming’s demeanor had changed. He didn’t seem like the man Yiran had first met in the assembly hall, the one who’d exuded such ambition that it seemed he expected the world to yield to his command. He seemed softer. More human, like the young man Matthias Lin had described.
He glanced at his watch. “We made it in time.”
Yiran reached for the door handle, but his father shook his head. “We’ll wait here.”
His father was staring intently at the opposite side of the street where a row of shops stood. There was a café, a sundries store, a florist, a bookshop, and a couple of clothing stores. Nothing unusual. Minutes later, the door to the florist opened.
A petite woman walked out.
Her hair was up in a neat bun, with a few strands falling by the sides of her oval face, exactly as Yiran remembered. Years had gone by. She had to be older, but it felt like his mother had remained the same, almost as if she was stuck in a time capsule while he’d been forced to grow up.
Father and son stayed silent, watching the woman they loved walk down the street to the café. She came out shortly with a paper bag in one hand and a cup in the other, smiling and waving to neighbors before returning to her shop.
