Needed By Him

Chapter 9

The real Qin Ruo floated beside her own body, watching the playful chat between the fake Qin Ruo and the 3rd Prince unfold with a hollow ache in her chest.

Her soul was becoming more transparent, the edges of her form dissolving like mist as she stood on the verge of disappearing. Her limbs felt weightless, almost numb, as the realization set in—this wasn’t her world anymore.

The laughter, the smiles shared between the fake Qin Ruo and the Prince were foreign to her. There was no place for her here.

She couldn't bear it any longer. The false Qin Ruo, Li Lei, her father, her brothers—everything was slipping away, and she was too tired to hold on.

Her soul trembled with the knowledge that her existence was fading, and the thought of fighting it seemed futile. Why should she stay? Why cling to a life that no longer belonged to her?

So, she made her decision.

No goodbyes. No final words. Qin Ruo let herself drift away from the mansion, away from the people who had once been her family but now seemed so far out of reach.

The courtyard, the walls that had once enclosed her life, became distant as she floated through the air, weightless and formless like a wisp of air.

The world around her was serene, yet she felt no attachment to it anymore. She no longer belonged here.

As she passed a shrine tucked into the gardens, something strange stirred.

A sudden gust of wind blew across her path, carrying with it the sound of a flute. The melody wrapped around her like a delicate thread, soft yet sharp enough to pull at her heart.

Qin Ruo halted in mid-air, her transparency forgotten for a moment as the flute's song wound through her soul. It was beautiful, almost otherworldly, and it pierced through the numbness that had settled deep within her.

Her gaze turned instinctively toward the source of the music. She floated forward, slowly at first, then faster as the notes drew her toward their origin.

Skipping past the walls of her mansion, Qin Ruo drifted further away from everything she once knew, pulled by the haunting melody. Soon, the faint outline of a Buddha temple came into view, nestled amidst tall, ancient trees.

The sound of the flute grew clearer, its soft, tranquil tune guiding her like a beacon.

In front of the temple stood a solitary figure, half-hidden beneath the canopy of trees, playing the flute with effortless grace. The music seemed to be one with the wind, with the earth, with the rustling leaves and the distant sky.

The figure was still, calm, and though he played alone, there was an undeniable sense of belonging in the way he stood there. As if the world itself had paused to listen.

Qin Ruo floated closer, her soul trembling with a mixture of curiosity and something else—something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Peace.

The figure, though unfamiliar, brought with him a sense of tranquility that seeped into her restless soul.

For the first time since her displacement, she felt herself pause, not out of pain or confusion, but out of quiet wonder.

The flute’s melody washed over her like a gentle wave, and for the first time, Qin Ruo wondered if there was still something in this world for her.

Something beyond the pain of being replaced. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to let go of than just her life.

The music carried with it a promise of something deeper, something lasting. And in that brief moment, Qin Ruo wasn’t ready to dissolve into nothingness.

She hovered there, watching the solitary figure play, his face obscured by the shadows of the trees. The notes flowed like a river, steady and unbroken, filling the empty spaces inside her. Qin Ruo floated closer still, drawn into the music’s embrace.

The thought of disappearing seemed distant now, replaced by the strange sense of belonging that radiated from the figure before her.

She didn’t know who this person was, or why the sound of his flute reached so deeply into her, but it didn’t matter.

For now, the world outside, the false Qin Ruo, her family—they all faded into the background. All that remained was the music and the figure who played it, so calmly, so perfectly in tune with the world around him.

In this moment of serenity, Qin Ruo found herself lingering, unwilling to let go just yet.

Qin Ruo hesitated as she floated closer to the man. The etiquette ingrained in her since childhood—one that drew sharp lines between men and women—made her falter. Even as a soul without a body, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of awkwardness.

Her heart beat faintly, echoing memories of modesty and propriety. The distance between them felt vast, despite the empty space she hovered through.

But then the thought struck her: No one can see me. I’m just a soul, a ghost.

The realization gave her a strange sense of freedom, as if the invisible chains of etiquette had loosened. She no longer had to worry about appearances or decorum.

She was weightless, bodiless, and unseen. What harm could it do to look closely, just this once?

With newfound courage, Qin Ruo drifted nearer to the man, drawn by an irresistible pull.

Her eyes, though ethereal, focused intently on him, and as the last strains of the flute's melody faded, she could finally take him in fully.

He was ethereal. The kind of beauty that could only exist in the quietest corners of the world, like a secret whispered in the breeze.

His eyes, half-lidded as he played, were dark, deep pools that reflected nothing but the sky and stars, yet held a quiet authority.

They were eyes that looked upon the world as if it were dust beneath his feet—unmoved by time or circumstance. His long, dark lashes framed his eyes like the brushstrokes of a master painter, perfectly delicate yet undeniably masculine.

His skin, pale and flawless, seemed to glow faintly in the soft light filtering through the trees.

The wind stirred his long, jet-black hair, which flowed like a river down his back, framing a face that was sharp yet gentle, like chiseled marble smoothed by the touch of a thousand years.

His high cheekbones and straight, elegant nose gave him an almost regal air, while his lips, slightly parted from the flute, were soft and calm, holding no trace of emotion but not cold either.

Qin Ruo couldn’t help but stare. Handsome was an understatement. He was beyond that—more beautiful than any man she had ever seen, even more than her brothers, more than the 3rd Prince.

The comparison felt almost rude, as if no man should be compared to someone like him, whose beauty seemed to exist on another plane altogether.

He was like a figure from a dream, untouchable, unreal, and yet he stood there, as still as the trees, the flute in his hands like an extension of his being.

Her breath—or whatever it was that her soul could muster—caught in her throat.

How could someone so perfect, so otherworldly, exist in the same world she did? And yet, there he was, playing the flute with such grace, with a peace that felt ancient, as if he had seen the rise and fall of empires and remained unchanged.

His presence was calm, quiet, yet commanding in a way that required no words, no movement.

For the first time in what felt like ages, Qin Ruo didn’t feel the hollow ache of being displaced. She didn’t feel the burning loneliness of watching her life unravel.

In front of him, all of that faded into something softer, like a whisper in the wind. There was no need for comparison, no need for anger or despair. There was only him, and the melody that still seemed to linger in the air around them.

Qin Ruo floated closer still, daring herself to approach, her eyes drinking in every detail of the man before her. She had never seen anything like him, never felt anything like the tranquility his presence brought.

She wasn’t sure if it was the music, or the man himself, but for the first time since she had become a wandering soul, she felt an odd sense of belonging. Like she was meant to witness this moment, this beauty, if only for an instant.

As Qin Ruo hovered close to the man, she found herself drawn deeper into the tranquility that surrounded him.

The more she observed his ethereal beauty, the more a sense of calm enveloped her, soothing the turmoil she had carried for so long.

There was no sharpness in his presence, no unsettling feeling—only peace, as if his very existence was in perfect harmony with the world around him.

His beauty was flawless, like something carved from the purest stone, untouched by the imperfections of life. Yet instead of stirring unease within her, it brought a quiet sense of awe.

For so long, she had wandered unseen and forgotten, lost in her grief. But now, before this serene figure, a deep stillness settled within her. The longer she gazed at him, the more her heart was calmed by his presence.

She didn’t want to disturb him, didn’t feel the need to disrupt the purity he embodied. Instead, she simply wanted to witness it, to be near that sense of peace. Her heart, once clenched with sorrow, began to loosen. There was no desire to mar the perfection before her—only an urge to bask in its serenity.

Why do I feel so at peace? she wondered, astonished by the change in her emotions. It should have been enough simply to observe him from afar, to admire his beauty and the sense of calm he radiated.

But now, she felt herself being pulled closer, not out of desperation, but out of a quiet longing to linger in his presence, to feel that stillness for just a moment longer. The thought filled her with wonder, a soft breath of hope where only darkness had been before.

Her soul trembled, not from tension, but from the release of everything she had carried. That dark, twisted urge to disrupt his calm was gone, replaced by a profound sense of awe. The ache in her chest began to ease, the emptiness filled by the peace that radiated from him.

The lines between decorum and propriety felt distant, unnecessary in this ethereal space. It didn’t matter now. What harm could there be in admiring him, in staying close to this source of tranquility that had quieted her restless heart?

She gazed at him, tracing the contours of his face—the delicate arch of his brow, the sharp line of his jaw, the serene, almost divine stillness in his expression. Up close, his beauty was even more profound, and the more she neared him, the more unreal, yet peaceful, he became.

And then it happened.

For a fleeting moment, his eyes shifted, ever so slightly, and Qin Ruo’s breath caught. His gaze… it landed on her. Just for a second. It was impossible, wasn’t it? She wasn’t seen. She couldn’t be seen.

Her mind raced. No… it’s impossible. She reminded herself, trying to dismiss the sensation. He couldn’t see me. I’m nothing but a soul, a mere ghost…

But even as she tried to reason with herself, her heart fluttered in disbelief. The stillness in the air suddenly felt heavy, charged with something she couldn’t quite place. His eyes—those deep, serene eyes—had seemed to flicker in her direction, as if acknowledging her presence. For the briefest second, it was as though his gaze pierced through the veil of her existence, seeing her not as a wandering spirit but as something… more.

Qin Ruo’s breathless thoughts spiraled. It’s impossible… isn’t it? She hovered there, unsure now, a strange sensation creeping into her chest. She wanted to believe it was nothing more than a trick of the wind, or her mind playing tricks on her after everything she had been through. But that fleeting look—it lingered in her memory, refusing to be dismissed.

She found herself staring back at him, frozen by uncertainty. Did he see her? Could he see her?

The rational part of her shouted no, but her heart whispered maybe. And it was that tiny whisper that left her suspended in that moment, hovering between what she knew to be true and what she dared not believe.

Her mind reeled. Could it be?