Signing

The rain fell all night, turning the courtyard of the Xie family's old mansion into a blur of gray. Lin Zhiyi stood in the study, her fingertips pressing against the divorce agreement, wrinkling the paper's edge. Thunder rolled outside the window, shaking the dim yellow light in the room. By that faint light, she made out the blank signature line at the end of the agreement.

She pushed the agreement across the desk, the metal paperweight sliding with a soft scrape. "Sign."

Xie Jin sat in the rosewood chair, unmoving. He wore a dark gray home shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing a stretch of cold white wrist. Three years of marriage, and Lin Zhiyi knew this look too well—back straight, chin slightly tucked, like a sheathed blade, always composed, always unruffled.

The pen lay next to the agreement, a silver-black body, the one he always used.

Lin Zhiyi waited three seconds, five seconds, ten seconds. He still didn't reach for it.

"What," she laughed, her voice very soft, as if escaping between her teeth, "having second thoughts?"

Xie Jin finally lifted his eyes. They were beautiful eyes, slightly elongated at the corners, with deep irises, always looking at people with a faint detachment, as if through a layer of mist. But tonight, perhaps due to the light, Lin Zhiyi thought she caught a glint of gold in his pupils, fleeting, so quick it might have been her imagination.

"Not second thoughts." His voice was low, with a hint of hoarseness, as if soaked through by the heavy rain. "If I sign, you'll never escape."

Lin Zhiyi was startled for a moment, then laughed out loud. "Xie Jin, have you forgotten? These three years, who's been waiting? Who's been enduring? Who's been foolish enough to think you might one day look back at me?"

As she spoke, she pushed the agreement further, almost against his chest. "Now I don't want to wait anymore. Sign. Divorce. We're even."

Xie Jin lowered his gaze, looking at the agreement. The words were printed by her own hand. The property division clause was written clearly: she didn't want Xie's family assets, not the real estate, not the cars, only her pre-marital apartment and enough money to start over. She had thought it through long ago—clean break, dignified, no trouble for him.

After all, this marriage had been her wishful thinking from the start.

Xie Jin finally reached out and picked up the pen. The nib hovered over the signature line, ink spreading into an ever-expanding black dot.

Lin Zhiyi watched that black dot, and suddenly felt her heart clench. Three years. She had poured all her passion and hope into this marriage, but when he was about to sign, she found it still hurt.

She abruptly turned her face away, not wanting him to see her expression.

Another thunderclap outside, this time very close, as if something had exploded on the roof. The study lights flickered twice, then went out.

Darkness swallowed the entire room.

Lin Zhiyi instinctively stepped back, her lower back pressing against the cold windowsill.

"Don't move." Xie Jin's voice came from the darkness, startlingly close.

Before she could react, a hand clamped onto the back of her neck. His palm was burning hot, so hot she instinctively tried to break free, but his hand held like an iron vise, unyielding.

"Xie Jin, you—"

"I've changed my mind." His breath brushed her ear, carrying a strange heat. "I can't sign this."

Lin Zhiyi laughed in fury. "It's not up to you. The divorce will happen. If you don't sign, I'll sue—"

She couldn't finish.

Xie Jin lowered his head and kissed her.

The kiss was heavy, tinged with a hint of blood, like a beast biting into its prey's throat. Lin Zhiyi's mind went blank. In three years, they had rarely even held hands; she never imagined his kiss could be like this—scorching, brutal, nearly desperate.

She pushed him hard, her fingers pressing against his chest, only to feel a wet slickness. Rain? No, not rain. The liquid was thicker and hotter than rain, with a faint metallic smell.

"You're hurt?" she blurted out.

Xie Jin didn't answer. His lips pressed against her ear, his voice so low it was almost inaudible: "Zhiyi, you shouldn't have come tonight."

Another flash of lightning outside.

In that fleeting white light, she saw his face clearly. Xie Jin's pupils had turned into slits, golden slits, like the eyes of a cold-blooded animal.

Before she could scream, a loud crash came from outside. The study's French window shattered entirely, and a gale of rain and wind burst in, pushing her backward.

Xie Jin grabbed her waist.

And then she saw.

In the rain-drenched night sky, something enormous was hovering over the Xie family mansion. Golden scales glinted coldly in the lightning, and a pair of vertical pupils looked down at her from above, burning with the same gold as the man in front of her.

It was a dragon. A real dragon.

Lin Zhiyi opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

Xie Jin's arms tightened, pressing her into his embrace. His body heat was terrifyingly high, his heartbeat thundering like a drum: "Don't be afraid."

But his voice no longer sounded human. Low, hoarse, carrying an ancient resonance: "It's me."

The golden dragon outside let out a long cry, the sound waves shaking the entire old mansion. Lin Zhiyi's wrist suddenly seared with pain, the scar that had been diagnosed as a birthmark from childhood burned like fire, making her tremble all over.

She looked down. In the darkness, the scar was glowing. A faint gold, the same gold as in Xie Jin's eyes.

"Life bond..." Xie Jin pressed his forehead against her shoulder, his voice trembling with pain. "Not broken yet..."

Before Lin Zhiyi could ask what life bond, his arms suddenly went limp, and he collapsed heavily onto her.

The golden dragon outside let out a mournful cry, its massive form swaying in the storm, then dissolving into countless golden specks, vanishing into the night sky.

Xie Jin had fainted.

Lin Zhiyi slid to the floor, holding him, her hands covered in warm liquid. She looked down at her palms—it was gold.

Her blood had turned gold.