The sunlight filtered softly through the curtains as Wei stepped into his family's apartment, a heavy weight already settling on his shoulders. The scent of dinner lingered in the air, but the familiar warmth that once welcomed him was gone, replaced by a tension that he couldn't shake. He placed his bag quietly by the door, hoping to slip unnoticed into his room.
"Wei?" His mother's voice rang out, sharp and impatient, from the kitchen. "You're finally home?"
Wei winced. There was no escaping it now. He forced a smile as he walked into the small kitchen, where his mother stood, hands on her hips, clearly waiting for an explanation.
"I've been studying, Mom," Wei said, trying to keep his tone casual. "You know finals are coming up."
His father, sitting at the dining table with a half-folded newspaper, lowered his reading glasses. "Studying late every night?" he asked, his voice tinged with skepticism. "Then why are you never home after dark?"
Wei hesitated. He knew this conversation was inevitable, but the weight of it still hit him harder than he expected. For the past few months, his nights had belonged to the Midnight Pawnshop—long hours surrounded by strange, magical artifacts, the quiet murmurs of Mr. Shen, and the mysteries that seemed to multiply with every trade. But how could he explain that to his parents?
"I've been working, too," Wei replied after a pause, his gaze flickering toward the window as if searching for an escape route. "Late shifts. It's nothing shady, I promise."
His mother crossed her arms, her frown deepening. "If it's nothing shady, then why can't you tell us where you're working? And where is all this money coming from?" She gestured toward the envelope of cash he had left on the counter last week—a gesture of good faith, hoping it would ease their financial burden. Instead, it had only raised more questions.
Wei swallowed, his throat dry. "I—"
"You've changed, Wei," his father interrupted, his voice calm but firm. "We barely see you anymore. And when we do, it's like you're not even here. Your sister notices it too."
Wei flinched at the mention of his sister, Liu. He hadn't seen her yet today, but the guilt was already rising in his chest like an unstoppable tide. Just then, as if summoned by the mention of her name, Liu's soft footsteps echoed from the hallway.
"Wei?" Her voice was quiet but carried the weight of years of unspoken resentment. She stepped into the room, her arms hidden beneath the long sleeves of her sweater, but Wei knew what lay beneath—the burn scars that never fully healed. The reminders of a night he couldn't forget.
His heart clenched as he met her gaze. Her face was calm, but her eyes held a pain that had never truly left.
"You're not telling them the truth, are you?" Liu's words cut through the silence, each one a dagger of accusation. "Just like you didn't tell them the truth about what happened to me."
Wei's breath caught in his throat. It was always the same—no matter how much time passed, the memory of that night, the fire, the helplessness, always found a way to resurface.
"Liu, I—" Wei started, but she cut him off.
"You promised me you'd protect me. And then you left me behind," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but the impact of her words was deafening. "I called for you, Wei. I screamed. But you didn't come."
The room seemed to grow colder, the warmth of the setting sun doing nothing to ease the chill that settled over them. Wei's mind raced back to that night—the fire that had consumed their old apartment, the smoke, the flames, the terror. He had tried to save her. He had run back into the flames, but by the time he found her, it was too late. Her arms and legs had already been caught in the blaze.
"Liu, I didn't leave you behind," Wei whispered, his voice shaking with the weight of his guilt. "I came back. I tried—"
"You didn't try hard enough." Liu's eyes, once filled with love and trust, now held only a bitter resentment. "And now you're doing it again. You're disappearing. Where do you go every night, Wei? What's more important than your family?"
Wei stood frozen, the guilt suffocating him. His parents remained silent, their expressions unreadable, but Wei could feel their disappointment like a physical presence in the room.
"I'm trying to make things better," he said, his voice barely audible. "I'm working to help us. To help you."
Liu scoffed, turning her back on him. "You can't help me, Wei. You couldn't save me then, and you can't save me now."
The silence that followed her words was deafening. Wei felt as though the walls were closing in on him, the weight of his sister's pain pressing down on his chest. He had thought that by working at the pawnshop, by earning money and trying to support his family, he could make up for the past. But the truth was, no amount of money could erase the scars—physical or emotional.
His mother's voice broke the silence, soft but filled with concern. "Wei, whatever you're doing… please don't get lost in it. We need you here, with us. Liu needs you."
Wei nodded, but his thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and guilt. How could he explain that what he was doing was for them? That the Midnight Pawnshop, as dangerous and strange as it was, had given him a purpose? And yet, standing in his family's kitchen, facing the people he loved most, he couldn't bring himself to say the words.
"I'll… I'll be home more often," Wei promised, though even as he said it, he wasn't sure if he could keep that promise.
Liu turned away, disappearing back down the hallway without another word. His parents exchanged a worried glance but said nothing more.
As the night fell and the shadows lengthened, Wei was left standing alone, the guilt of the past and the weight of his secrets crushing him from all sides.