Jing Yuan felt like a bad father.

Neglecting you in favor of Yanqing was never his intention. Yanqing simply needed training to grow stronger, to reach his potential. Jing Yuan told himself it wasn’t a matter of preference but duty. Yet, somewhere along the way, he had lost sight of you. Don’t misunderstand—Jing Yuan loved you deeply, but he had a tendency to overlook the quieter cries for attention.

He didn’t think it would get this bad.

Aeons above... how had he failed so catastrophically? The signs had been there, glaring and unrelenting, yet he ignored them all. The distance you put between yourself and him, the way your long sleeves seemed to become an everyday necessity, and the faint glimpses of bandages peeking out from beneath them—all of it had been right before his eyes.

How could he have been so blind? How could he not see that his own flesh and blood had been suffering in silence, tearing themselves apart in a way no child should?

What kind of father led their precious child—someone so kind and beautiful—to such a devastating place?

---

Jing Yuan sighed heavily, his heart weighed down by guilt as he carefully wrapped fresh bandages around the cuts on your wrists. His hands trembled slightly, and the sight of the marks lining your arms made his stomach churn.

It was almost unbearable.

"Does it still hurt...?" he asked softly, his voice heavy with regret. His golden eyes traced over the scars etched into your skin—silent reminders of how long you had been battling this pain alone.

How long had this been happening?

How long had he been so wrapped up in his own duties that he failed to see you slipping away?

You've grown up so fast. He's missed so much.

So many birthdays and hopes and dreams.

But now things were far to grim to even think about reconnecting