Liang Jin stared at the ceiling of his room, the pale glow of morning seeping through the window blinds. Training drills echoed faintly from the southern courtyard, no doubt Yue was already at it. She always was.
His twin sister—older by five minutes—was everything the family needed. Disciplined. Talented. Fierce. The heir to their mother's bloodline. And he? He was just the other twin.
He swung his legs off the bed and padded barefoot across the room, brushing fingers over the sword his brother Liang Zhen had gifted him last year. It remained unused. Not because he didn't train—he did—but because everyone knew it wouldn't amount to much. The power didn't choose boys.
That didn't mean it didn't hurt.
At breakfast, the table was already half full. Liang Ran sat swinging her legs, face buried in a cartoon-themed workbook, while Lady Liang discussed logistics with Mei about a new shipment of research materials. Yue was missing—likely still sparring under their father's watch.
Jin slid into his seat, pouring himself tea in silence.
"You should eat more," Mei said without looking up.
"I'm not hungry."
"You'll need it. You have classes and field observation later, right?"
He nodded.
Across from him, Lady Liang's gaze lifted for a moment. Sharp. Knowing. "You've been quieter lately, Jin."
"I'm fine."
The clatter of chopsticks and porcelain filled the silence. Mei finally looked up, her tone softer. "You know she doesn't mean to leave you behind, right?"
"I know."
But knowing didn't always help. Not when the expectations curled so tightly around Yue that they left no space for him to grow. He wasn't jealous—he loved his sister—but he wondered, often, who he was outside of her shadow.
At School
The sun hung high in the sky by the time Jin reached school, the familiar weight of his backpack slung over his shoulder. Students passed by in groups, some glancing his way, while others ignored him entirely. The whispers followed, whether he wanted them to or not.
"Is that Liang Yue's brother?"
"Yeah, it's him. Looks a lot like her."
"I heard the Fourth Bloodline doesn't pass to boys. He's just... there."
He pushed open the school gates, entering the courtyard with its usual bustle of activity. The school was modern, designed with sleek glass walls and greenery interspersed with tech-enabled features, but it felt cold to him. The halls echoed with a sense of distance, as if no one truly belonged.
He entered his first class—Advanced History of the Mystical Arts—where the students already occupied their seats. The room was a blend of traditional scrolls and interactive tablets, each desk equipped with a personalized data screen. Despite the technological advances, Jin couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't quite fit in here either. As the teacher began to discuss ancient bloodlines and their legacies, his gaze drifted to the back of the classroom.
He noticed a few girls whispering, staring at him as though trying to figure out if he was worth talking to. His sister's shadow hung over him, though. No one could forget that he was her brother.
"Jin?" A classmate's voice interrupted his thoughts. "You're staring at nothing. Is something wrong?"
He blinked, then forced a smile. "No, sorry. Just thinking."
The class continued, but Jin's thoughts remained elsewhere, lost in a quiet frustration. The lessons on mystical arts—those things that had once seemed so interesting to him—were now dull. After all, he wasn't training to unlock any legendary power, wasn't part of the bloodline's destined heirs. His legacy was something he had to create for himself, but it felt harder every day to carve out a place.
Later that afternoon, the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. Jin shuffled out with his backpack, glad to be free of the weight of his own thoughts, but still feeling the subtle sting of his reality. He glanced at his phone. His sister's name flashed on the screen.
Yue: Can you meet me at the usual spot?
He couldn't help but smile a little, despite everything. Yue was the one person who saw him, not just as her brother, but as Jin. She didn't judge him by what he lacked.
The Peach Tree
Jin arrived beneath the peach tree where Yue often went to escape her rigorous training sessions. She was sitting there, a book in her hands, her posture relaxed for the first time all day.
"You're late," she teased as he sat beside her.
"I had class," he replied, sitting down beside her with a deep exhale. "School's the same. Nothing changes."
"Maybe that's not a bad thing."
He glanced at her sideways, confused. "How can that not be a bad thing? You're training to be—well, you. And I'm here..."
"Jin." Her voice cut through his self-pity, firm yet caring. "You don't have to be what everyone expects. You have your own path. I've always believed that. Don't let them tell you who you are."
She didn't need to say more. She never did. Just being here with him, under the soft pink blossoms, was enough.
Later that evening, back at the estate, Jin sat by his window, the dimming light casting long shadows across his room. He hadn't figured out where he belonged yet, but as he looked out at the horizon, a thought lingered in his mind.
Maybe he didn't need power to find his place.
Maybe his path wasn't written in bloodline, but in the steps he'd take on his own.