But Tianyi ignored him. Her steps were deliberate, unhurried. It was as if she wasn't walking toward three hardened survivors but three lost children in need of guidance. I couldn't understand her fearlessness—or her trust.
Yike's voice was a whisper beside me. "She's going to get herself killed."
"She sees something we don't," Baihe murmured. Her knuckles had gone white from gripping her water bottle, but she made no move to intervene. Perhaps, like me, she couldn't bring herself to interrupt whatever was unfolding.
Tianyi stood before the leader, her head tilted slightly as though she was trying to peer into the depths of his soul.
Her gaze was unflinching yet gentle, and something about it unsettled me. It wasn't just bravery that drove her forward—there was something more, something I couldn't define.
The leader met her gaze and froze. His defiance melted away, replaced by confusion, then fear. His lips parted as if he wanted to speak, but no words came. Tianyi reached out, her hand hovering inches away from his arm.
"I know you're scared," Tianyi said softly, her voice carrying through the clearing. "You've lost so much. You've fought so hard. But you're not a bad person."
The leader stumbled back, his companions exchanging uneasy glances. Zichen moved as if to grab Tianyi, but she turned her head slightly, a silent signal for him to stay. Her calm wasn't just an act; it was a force—a quiet storm that held everyone in its grasp.
"This girl's insane," Yike muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.
"No," Baihe replied. "She's...different."
I couldn't argue with that. Tianyi wasn't just seeing these men. She was seeing through them, as though the barriers of their hardened exteriors couldn't hide the truth from her gaze.
The leader's voice cracked as he finally found his words. "How...how do you know?"
Tianyi smiled—a small, fragile thing that carried a weight I couldn't comprehend. "Because I can see it," she said simply. "I see what you're trying to protect. The fear behind your anger. You're only human."
For a moment, I thought she'd disarmed them entirely. But then one of the other men stepped forward, his voice sharp. "We don't have time for this. Let's take their stuff and go."
The tension snapped back into place, the momentary calm shattered. Tianyi turned her gaze to the man, her eyes locking onto his. Whatever she saw in him made her sigh, and her voice hardened.
"You've hurt people," she said. "You've taken lives to survive. You think it's the only way. But you're wrong."
The man sneered, though his expression faltered as Tianyi continued to stare. The leader glanced at his companion, his fear growing. "Don't," he said weakly.
"We don't have a choice!" the other man snapped. "The world doesn't care about right or wrong anymore!"
Tianyi didn't flinch, even as his words echoed through the clearing. "I care," she said. "And so do you."
Conflict rippled through their ranks, the delicate threads of trust between them unraveling. Zichen finally stepped forward, his patience worn thin. "Tianyi, enough. Come back."
"They're not monsters," she said softly, her voice resonating with an undeniable truth. "They've suffered. They've fought—not to hurt, but to survive. You see danger, but I see something else entirely."
Her gaze lingered on the leader, the defiance in his posture replaced by a vulnerability I would never have associated with him just moments ago. She took a step forward, closer to the three strangers, and I instinctively moved to stop her. But something held me back—an inexplicable sense that Tianyi's fearlessness wasn't recklessness. It was understanding.
"They have families," she continued, her words tugging at the air around us like an invisible tether.
"A wife. A child who's seen horrors no one should ever have to see. Another life waiting to be born." Her voice caught, and to my astonishment, a single tear slipped down her cheek.
Tianyi wasn't simply explaining their plight—she was feeling it deeply.
He looked at his companions, their postures softened as if Tianyi's words had reached places long buried within them. At this time since they emerged, they no longer looked dangerous—they looked defeated.
Yike's skepticism was written all over his face, his arms crossed tight against his chest. "So what?" he asked, his voice cutting through the quiet. "Everyone's got their sob story. That doesn't mean we can trust them."
Baihe shot him a warning glare, but Tianyi didn't seem fazed. She turned to Yike, her expression firm but compassionate. "Their pain doesn't erase the choices they've made," she said. "But it does explain them. You said it yourself—the world doesn't care about right or wrong anymore. So we have to."
Her words hit me like a physical blow. I'd been holding onto judgment, on edge ever since the men appeared, ready to defend myself and the group at the slightest hint of danger. But Tianyi's conviction forced me to reevaluate—to see these men through her eyes.
"They've lost so much," Tianyi said, addressing all of us now. "But what remains is worth protecting. A wife pregnant with hope in a hopeless world. A child broken by the cruelty she's witnessed, left without a mother to comfort her. The leader's strength isn't just for himself—it's for them. Can't you see that?"
Her voice cracked slightly, the emotional toll of her words evident. I wanted to ask how she knew all this, how she could see so deeply into their lives with nothing but the faintest details to go on. But I didn't. I couldn't.
The leader, who hadn't spoken since Tianyi began, finally broke the silence. "She's right," he said, his voice rough but earnest. "I've done terrible things to keep them safe. To keep them alive. If that makes me a monster in your eyes, so be it. But I don't regret it."
Tianyi stepped back, giving him the space to speak, and his companions looked at him with a mix of gratitude and shame.
"We don't want trouble," the leader continued. "We just want to survive. Same as you."
I glanced at Zichen, his unreadable expression offering no clue as to his thoughts. Yike still looked unconvinced, but Baihe seemed to be weighing Tianyi's words carefully, her fingers tracing the edge of her water bottle as if grounding herself in the present moment.
"I don't trust them," Yike said finally, breaking the silence once more. "But… I trust her." He glanced at Tianyi, his skepticism laced with grudging respect.
"If she says they're not a threat, I'll go along with it. For now."
It was more than I expected from him, and Baihe nodded in agreement, her decision seemingly already made. Zichen turned to me, his gaze steady but questioning. It was clear he valued my opinion, even if he wasn't asking outright. I swallowed hard, the weight of the decision pressing down on me.
Tianyi stepped back to my side, her presence a quiet reassurance.
"You can judge them," she said softly.
"You can choose to see them as a threat, or you can see what I see—a family, broken but still holding on. A group of survivors, just like us."