《The Requiem》


 Chapter 1: The Present - I

    Knock. Knock.


    "Junshi, how long are you going to take? You''re up next," came a loud female voice from outside the room.


    "Senior Sister. I''m just finishing with my changshan." His voice was smooth but quiet, carrying a natural calmness¡ªpolite yet reserved.


    He pulled the garment tight, the smooth black fabric hugging his form, its red and gold embroidery catching the dim light of the dressing room.


    "Alright, be quick," she replied. Her footsteps faded into the hall, muffled beneath the music of performers entertaining the crowd outside.


    Junshi glanced at himself in the cracked mirror. Pale skin, dark eyes, neatly tied hair¡ªhis features were sharp yet refined, a distant beauty like a painting behind glass. But the fracture running through the mirror split his reflection into uneven halves, twisting his image.


    His gaze dropped to his changshan, its golden patterns glinting faintly against the dark fabric. Yet, in the mirror''s broken surface, even that shimmer looked fractured.


    He ran a finger over the crack, his frown slight.


    Fragmented. Like a puzzle left unsolved.


    He had asked Madam, the owner of the Crescent Moon Pavilion, about replacing it once, only to be met with a dismissive wave of her hand.


    "Soon, Junshi," she''d said, her voice thick with her usual charm. "Maybe after a few months."


    That had been a year ago.


    Junshi often wondered if the crack was deliberate¡ªa symbol, a reminder that even beauty had its flaws and those flaws couldn''t simply be discarded. Or maybe it was just easier for her to ignore things she didn''t deem important. Either way, the mirror stayed, cracked and unchanging¡ªmuch like his place in the Pavilion.


    He didn''t remember how many years it had been since his mother sold him, or how old he was at the time. Based on his hazy memory, and the information told by Madam that he''ll turn eighteen in a few months, he thinks he must have been nine or ten years old.


    To be honest, he didn''t hate his mother for selling him.


    How could he?


    When he couldn''t even remember her face.


    Madam had once mentioned that she sold him during a famine. Their village had been starving, and to keep their bellies full, people resorted to either selling their loved ones or... cannibalism.


    Junshi often thought about that revelation, though it no longer shocked him. If anything, he supposed he should feel grateful. At least she hadn''t killed and eaten him.


    "I''ll remind her again," he muttered softly, as though the act of saying it might make it true. But deep down, he wasn''t sure if the mirror or anything else in the Pavilion would ever change.


    He straightened his collar and took a deep breath, pulling his attention back to the present. His fingers brushed against the golden embroidery one last time before turning to leave.


    One last glance at the mirror.


    Then, he stepped out into the dimly lit hallway. The faint hum of distant conversation mixed with the lively sounds of instruments. Red paper lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow that danced across the peeling wallpaper. The floor creaked beneath his footsteps as he made his way toward the stage.


    Stepping onto the stage, Junshi took his seat before the guzheng, positioned at the center as the main performer. The stage was modest yet refined, illuminated by lanterns that cast a golden glow over the polished wooden floor. Soft candlelight flickered along the edges, highlighting the elegant setup of the performers. To his side, the other musicians settled into their places, their instruments neatly arranged before them.


    As Junshi tested the strings of his guzheng, a familiar voice called from behind.


    "Jun''er, are you ready?"


    Mei stepped beside him, offering a kind smile. Her eyes crinkled slightly with warmth. She wore a pale lavender qipao, its silk fabric embroidered with delicate plum blossoms. Her hair was tied in an elegant bun, a single jade hairpin gleaming in the light.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    "Yes," Junshi replied. His voice was steady, though he continued running his fingers over the guzheng strings, ensuring they were in place.


    Mei took her seat beside him, lifting her xiao flute¡ªa slender instrument of dark bamboo, carved with silver patterns of swirling clouds. Her fingers rested lightly on its holes, waiting.


    Junshi followed suit, his hands producing deep, resonant notes from the guzheng that intertwined with Mei''s softer melody. Their music filled the air, powerful yet delicate, each note lingering like ripples on a still lake.


    The audience, a mix of drunken patrons and quieter, sober listeners, fell into an entranced silence. The drunk ones swayed in their seats, muttering slurred praises, while the sober ones nodded along, some humming softly to the familiar tune.


    The song was well-known, a melody woven into the hearts of many, but the way Junshi and Mei played it made it feel fresh, almost new.


    For a moment, the chaos of the outside world faded away.


    All that remained was the music.


    The performance ended. Some patrons lingered, ordering more drinks and food, their conversations a low hum in the background. Others departed, as though they had come solely for the music, treating the renowned food and wine of the Pavilion as an afterthought, despite this being one of the finest eateries in all of Xichang.


    Backstage, the performers gathered, their instruments carefully set aside as they slipped into a quieter world behind the red curtains. The space was modest, with wooden benches and tables cluttered with spare strings, tuning tools, and forgotten cups of tea.


    "Jun''er, you played beautifully today." Mei''s smile was warm, her eyes bright with quiet joy.


    Junshi, already anticipating the compliment, replied with measured confidence. "It''s only because you were my partner tonight, Sister Mei."


    Mei chuckled softly, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. She adjusted the folds of her qipao, her fingers brushing over the embroidered plum blossoms.


    Junshi turned his gaze toward Yue, his tone polite but observant. "What do you think of tonight''s performance, Senior Sister Yue?"


    Yue, standing apart from the group, adjusted the hem of her deep blue ruqun, a practical yet elegant outfit befitting her stoic demeanor. Her posture was straight as an arrow, her arms crossed neatly before her. But her expression was cold.


    "It was just as usual," she replied curtly, her tone devoid of praise or criticism.


    A brief silence followed. Some of the performers exchanged glances but said nothing. The quiet stretched for just a moment too long.


    Then, a voice cut through the air.


    "But I think we did great," Rong interjected from behind, her voice smooth, edged with a quiet sharpness. She took a slow step forward, her gaze flickering between Yue and Junshi. "Though I suppose some of us set the bar a little too high to recognize it."


    She glanced at Yue as she spoke, her smile unreadable.


    Her deep crimson ruqun, similar to Yue''s in style, draped gracefully over her. But its gold embroidery was more elaborate¡ªalmost as if demanding to be noticed.


    They were the Pavilion''s core performers¡ªeach one essential to the ensemble. The rest of the musicians were merely there to fill in, supporting the melodies crafted by the four.


    "Now, now," a familiar voice interjected. "Everyone truly did wonderfully tonight. It was one of our best performances yet."


    Madam Xi, stepped into the room, her presence commanding attention. At first glance, she could almost pass for a younger woman, thanks to the thick layer of makeup she wore¡ªa deep red lip, powdered skin, and perfectly drawn brows. Her attire was more elaborate than theirs, a rich crimson gown embroidered with golden phoenixes. Unlike the performers, who wore such finery only during shows, this was her everyday attire, a constant reminder of her authority.


    She approached Junshi and gently patted his head. "Junshi, you surprised me tonight." Her smirk carried the air of someone accustomed to seeing talent but still pleased by its display. "I suppose all that practice has finally paid off."


    Her sharp gaze flickered briefly to Yue. "You did well too."


    "I just did the bare minimum," Yue replied evenly, meeting Madam''s eyes with a piercing look.


    "As cold as ever," Madam murmured with a chuckle before turning back to Junshi.


    "Junshi, come see me tonight. Another noble lady has requested a private performance."


    Junshi nodded slightly. "Yes, Madam." His voice was calm, but his fingers curled slightly against his sleeve. His expression remained composed, yet a trace of something unreadable flickered in his eyes.


    Madam Xi gave a satisfied nod and left the room.


    As soon as the door shut, Mei rested her head on Junshi''s shoulder. He tensed slightly, caught off guard.


    "You don''t want to go, right?" she asked softly.


    Junshi hesitated. He glanced to the side, as if searching for the right words, then spoke without looking at her. "I''m just a bit nervous."


    "Junshi, who are you talking to?" Yue''s voice cut through the moment.


    Junshi blinked. His gaze darted left, right¡ªempty. A fleeting chill ran through him before reason settled in.She must have left, likely busy with her upcoming solo performance.


    "No one," he said smoothly. "I was just talking to myself."


    Yue gave him a long, assessing look. "Be careful. Now that you''re a main performer, you represent us. Be more mindful of how you carry yourself."


    Junshi lowered his head slightly in apology. "I''m sorry."


    Yue said nothing more and walked away.


    Midnight.


    The hallways were quiet, the faint glow of lanterns barely cutting through the darkness. Junshi''s footsteps echoed softly against the wooden floors, the only sound in the stillness.


    Absentmindedly, he hummed under his breath¡ªa habit, a steady rhythm that matched his pace. His fingers twitched slightly, as if tracing invisible strings, practicing even now.


    He stopped in front of the door.


    Lost in his quiet humming, he hadn''t realized how quickly he had arrived. Time had slipped by, carried away with each note. He exhaled slowly, steadying his mind, then straightened his collar. His eyes held neither nervousness nor hesitation¡ªonly quiet confidence.


    Then, he reached for the handle.

 Chapter 2: The Present - II

    Inside the room.


    The noblewoman sat in the center, a long jade pipe resting between her fingers. She exhaled a slow wisp of smoke, the rich scent of burning herbs settling into the air. Her deep green robe, embroidered with golden peonies, shimmered faintly in the dim light¡ªa quiet display of wealth. Though her expression remained unreadable, there was a sharpness in her gaze, hidden beneath her half-lidded eyes.


    Beside her, Madam Xi reclined lazily, one arm draped over the backrest, fingers idly tracing the rim of her teacup. A smirk played on her lips¡ªeffortless yet knowing, though her sharp gaze revealed her ever-watchful nature.


    On the noblewoman¡¯s other side stood a woman clad in fitted black garments, her stance rigid, unmoving. Her robes were plain yet precise, tailored for function over flair. A sword rested at her hip, its hilt wrapped in dark silk.


    Junshi stepped forward and began setting up his guzheng.


    At Madam¡¯s subtle nod, Junshi placed his hands on the strings.


    He began softly, the first notes delicate, barely a whisper.


    Then, stronger.


    His fingers glided over the guzheng, each note flowing like water¡ªsmooth and effortless. The melody painted an image of gentle streams, swaying blossoms, and birds taking flight at dawn. His hands moved instinctively, the strings beneath his fingers a familiar landscape he had walked a thousand times before.


    But tonight, something felt different.


    He glanced up, his gaze flickering toward the noblewoman for only a fraction of a second.


    She took another slow drag from her pipe, the smoke curling lazily as she watched him. The dim light shifted across her face, deepening the unreadable look in her half-lidded eyes. But beneath it, that sharpness remained.


    Junshi quickly looked away, his fingers steady, yet a faint unease coiled in his chest.


    Then softly, almost absentmindedly, the noblewoman began to hum, her voice low at first, then growing louder.


    Junshi¡¯s focus wavered.


    The melody had always been meant to invite participation, but this was different. Her hum wasn¡¯t in approval or enjoyment¡ªit felt deliberate. Testing. Measuring.


    He pushed the thought aside. He had played this song countless times. It was ingrained in his hands, in his very breath. Yet, as the next phrase approached, a sliver of uncertainty flickered in his mind.


    Was it this note? Or the next?


    The moment stretched thin.


    His hands moved before he could think¡ª


    And the melody shifted.


    It was seamless, a natural improvisation. A subtle adjustment. It should have gone unnoticed.


    But then, Tsk.


    The noblewoman clicked her tongue. The humming stopped.


    The air turned heavy, as if the very walls of the room pressed inward.


    Junshi¡¯s hands froze on the strings. His pulse pounded in his ears.


    Madam¡¯s expression darkened. The usual warmth in her features drained away, replaced by something cold. The curve of her lips was no longer a smile, but a thin, taut line. Her fingers, which had rested so delicately on the rim of her teacup, now gripped it with quiet intensity.


    Silence. Thick and suffocating.


    Then, with a voice as cold as steel, Madam ordered, ¡°Whip him.¡±


    The shift was absolute. The woman who had praised him just hours ago no longer existed. In her place sat a businesswoman, her face set in stone, willing to beat a young boy without hesitation if it meant currying favor with someone of higher status.


    The guard hesitated. Then, voice low, she murmured, ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    The lash struck.


    A sharp, cracking sound tore through the quiet room.


    Junshi remained silent.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡ª¡± The guard barely had time to finish before she adjusted the whip¡¯s angle for maximum impact.


    Again.


    Again.


    Again.


    Madam watched with a smile that didn¡¯t quite reach her eyes. It was stiff, forced¡ªperhaps meant to maintain a sense of dignity, or perhaps an attempt to hide the wrinkles of her aging face.


    By the tenth strike, the noblewoman raised a hand. ¡°Enough.¡±


    The guard stopped immediately, sweat clinging to her forehead.


    The noblewoman exhaled another wisp of smoke. ¡°I¡¯ve lost interest. I¡¯ll return after a few months. I hope he¡¯ll improve by then.¡± She said it while looking at Madam, her gaze sharp with unspoken expectation.


    Madam bowed low. ¡°Yes, Lady Tang. By then, Junshi will have mastered another instrument, and his performance will be flawless.¡± She straightened, her gaze flicking to Junshi with a sinister smile.


    ¡°Rest assured,¡± she added, ¡°I¡¯ll make sure of it.¡±


    Lady Tang left without another word.


    The guard, Yuxi, lingered, her head lowered in apology. The moment the noblewoman disappeared beyond the door, tears welled in her eyes.


    ¡°Ju... Junshi, I¡¯m sorry.¡± Her voice trembled. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to do that. I¡¯m really, really sorry.¡±


    Junshi, still sitting, lifted his head. He smiled.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to apologize for, Sister Yuxi. I only got what I deserved. I should have practiced more.¡±


    His smile only brightened¡ªsoft, almost childlike, a smile that seemed filled with innocence.


    Yuxi sobbed.


    Junshi quietly packed his instrument and left.


    The hallway was the same¡ªdimly lit, the lanterns flickering weakly against the cold air. The floorboards creaked beneath his slow, uneven steps. But everything felt¡­ colder.


    The pain in his back flared with each movement, his limbs stiff, the lashes burning against his skin. He had been punished before, but this¡ªthis was different. Ten times. For something as simple as a noblewoman¡¯s preference. It was horrible.


    Yet, Junshi only adjusted his grip on the guzheng case and kept walking, his steps slow but steady, as if nothing had happened.


    Junshi reached his room and pushed the door open.


    A single candle burned near the ceiling, hooked onto a rusted iron bracket. Its dim glow stretched long shadows across the walls, flickering as the door creaked. Near the dressing table, Mei stood still, her silk qipao catching the candlelight.


    She looked like she was staring at the door.


    Junshi¡¯s voice softened. ¡°Sister Mei.¡± He gestured lightly. ¡°Were you waiting for me?¡±


    Mei turned. A shadow of sorrow flickered across her face.


    She stepped forward, hesitated¡ªthen pulled him into a gentle embrace, as if afraid he might break.


    Junshi¡¯s entire body stiffened.


    Not from the affection¡ªbut from the pain.


    A sharp sting shot through his back, but he swallowed down the reaction, keeping his expression calm.


    Mei¡¯s voice trembled. ¡°It must have been hard for you, Jun¡¯er. I¡¯m sorry. I should have talked to Madam. I should have stopped her.¡±


    Junshi shook his head, a light chuckle slipping past his lips. ¡°It isn¡¯t your fault, Sister Mei.¡± His voice was cheerful¡ªtoo cheerful. ¡°I just have to do my part. That¡¯s what I was sold for, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    Mei¡¯s grip on his arms tightened.


    ¡°¡­I¡¯m really sorry, Jun¡¯er.¡±


    Junshi¡¯s smile didn¡¯t waver. ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡± As if the wounds on his back weren¡¯t real. As if none of it mattered.


    Her expression darkened. ¡°Sit down,¡± she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument. ¡°I¡¯ll treat your wounds.¡±


    Junshi obeyed, settling himself near the table.


    Mei knelt beside him and gently undid his changshan. The fabric slid off his shoulders, revealing his back.


    She froze.


    Junshi could hear her breath hitch.


    The marks were deep¡ªred, swollen, some even bleeding. The lashes had cut through the skin in places, raw and inflamed. Even without seeing them, he knew how bad they must have looked.


    For a moment, Mei said nothing.


    Then, slowly, she dipped a cloth into a bowl of medicinal water and pressed it against his skin.


    Junshi flinched slightly, but said nothing.


    Mei¡¯s movements were careful, yet her hands trembled.


    ¡°You always act like it doesn¡¯t hurt.¡± Her voice was quiet. ¡°But I know it does.¡±


    Junshi chuckled. ¡°You¡¯re overthinking, Sister Mei.¡±


    Mei didn¡¯t respond. She simply continued tending to his wounds.


    When she finished, she sat back, wiping the remaining bloodstains from her hands.


    ¡°Jun¡¯er¡­¡± she murmured. ¡°How long are you going to keep enduring this?¡±


    Junshi tilted his head, confused. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. This is normal, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Mei¡¯s eyes darkened.


    Before he could say more, she suddenly leaned forward and pulled him into another embrace.


    Junshi stiffened again.


    Her arms around him trembled. ¡°You have to endure this¡­ and I just watch, unable to do anything.¡±


    For a fleeting moment, his expression wavered. His usual cheerfulness flickered, replaced by something¡­ hollow.


    But only for a moment.


    Then, he forced another smile. ¡°It¡¯s alright, Sister Mei.¡±


    She pulled away slightly, but her face was close¡ªtoo close. And beneath the dim candlelight, her cheeks had taken on a faint red hue.


    Junshi blinked.


    Mei quickly turned away. ¡°Ah! I-I¡¯m sorry! Let me finish bandaging you.¡±


    Junshi tilted his head. ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    She touched her sleeve, glancing at the bloodstains on her clothes.


    ¡°This?¡± She waved it off. ¡°It¡¯s not a big deal.¡± She smiled, touching his cheek lightly. ¡°I¡¯ll just wash it. Or throw it away.¡±


    Junshi frowned. ¡°But¡ª¡±


    She placed a finger over his lips, silencing him.


    ¡°But the pain you went through for my silence¡­ that¡¯s what¡¯s unbearable.¡±


    Junshi stiffened.


    She leaned closer, lowering her voice. ¡°Should I stay?¡±


    Junshi, flustered, turned bright red.


    Mei chuckled at his expression.


    Then, with a gentle smile, she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.


    ¡°Sleep well, Jun¡¯er. I¡¯ll change your bandages tomorrow.¡±


    And with that, she left without looking back.


    After Mei left, Junshi sat still for a long moment.


    Then, he exhaled softly, rising to his feet.


    His gaze drifted toward the cracked mirror.


    The reflection stared back¡ªfractured, broken into uneven halves.


    Slowly, he reached up and traced the crack with his fingertips.


    The pain in his back flared again, sharp and unrelenting, but his face remained calm.


    He turned away.


    Crossed the room.


    Collapsed onto the bed.


    Sleep was both a relief and a curse.


    The moment he drifted off, the pain dulled. But every time he stirred awake¡ªeven for a breath¡ªit returned, sharp and unrelenting.


    He curled into himself beneath the blanket, burying every inch of his body from sight.


    It wasn¡¯t the cold that made him hide.


    It was because the pain made him feel small.


    And tonight, he didn¡¯t want to be seen at all.

 Chapter 3: Present - III

    Knock. Knock.


    Junshi stirred. His sleep broke as a sharp beam of sunlight slipped through the window, stinging his eyes. He groaned, turning away, but the light had already disturbed his rest. A dull ache spread through his stiff body, the warmth of sleep fading too fast.


    Then came a voice from outside.


    "Junshi, are you awake?"


    It was Guard Yuxi.


    Junshi blinked a few times, his vision still hazy. "Sister Yuxi?"


    He pushed himself up, the blanket slipping off his shoulders. As he moved, a sharp pull spread across his back-his wounds from last night''s punishment protesting the sudden motion. He hissed softly but ignored it, stepping toward the door.


    When he opened the door, Yuxi stood there, dressed in her usual black uniform. A sword rested at her hip, and her hair was neatly tied back. She was taller than most women, her posture always firm, like she was ready for battle even in the quiet morning.


    Junshi yawned. "Why are you calling me so early?"


    "Madam said you''ll be learning guqin from Rong from now on."


    Junshi frowned. "What? What about my guzheng lessons with Senior Sister Yue?"


    Yuxi hesitated. "That... I don''t know. But you should go to her room soon. The morning lessons are starting."


    Junshi sighed. "Alright."


    Yuxi''s fingers curled into a fist. She hesitated before speaking again. "Junshi, I... I know I have no right to ask this."


    Junshi looked at her, waiting.


    "But... how are you feeling now?"


    Her voice was quiet, almost uncertain. She avoided his gaze, her head slightly lowered as she held one arm with the other. The strictness she usually carried was gone, replaced by guilt.


    Junshi blinked. He hadn''t expected that.


    Yuxi bit her lip, her shoulders tense. She looked as if she wanted to say something more.


    "I-"


    Junshi cut her off with a small smile. His voice was light, the same as before. "I told you already, Sister Yuxi. And I''ll say it again."


    He repeated the exact words he had told her last night, after the whipping. "There''s nothing to apologize for. I only got what I deserved. I should have practiced better."


    Then, without another word, he stepped back inside and closed the door.


    Yuxi stood there, frozen.


    From inside, Junshi''s voice came again. "I''ll get ready and meet Sister Rong in an hour."


    A pause. Then Yuxi''s voice, softer than before. "Okay... I''ll let her know."


    Her words wavered slightly, reflecting the emotions she was trying to hold back. Then, her footsteps slowly faded down the hallway.


    Junshi let out a small breath.


    He turned to his dressing table and started undressing. As the loose fabric slipped from his shoulders, he noticed the bandages on his back had come undone. The cloth was barely holding-too loose.


    "Did I move too much in my sleep?" he murmured to himself.


    Maybe Sister Mei didn''t tie them tightly enough... She was probably worried about hurting me.


    He gently touched the bandages, adjusting them as best as he could. Then, he picked up his clothes-simple, neither fancy nor too poor. The fabric was slightly worn, but he held it close for a moment.


    "How long have I been wearing this?" he wondered. "two years?"


    A small smile touched his lips. "I should take better care of it."


    This wasn''t just any ordinary clothing. It was a gift-his first ever. Given to him by Mei after his first public performance.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Junshi dressed carefully, wincing as the fabric pressed against his wounds. Then, after locking his room, he stepped into the hallway.


    The Pavilion was quiet in the early morning. The red lanterns, now dark, swayed gently with the breeze, their once vibrant glow reduced to cold, lifeless silk.


    Junshi walked past rooms and corridors, his path leading in a different direction than before.


    Midway, he reached a garden in the center of the Pavilion. A small building stood in the middle, surrounded by lush greenery. Dew clung to the leaves, sparkling in the morning sun. A soft wind rustled through the bamboo trees, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers.


    Junshi paused for a moment, taking it in.


    Then, he continued toward Rong''s room.


    Outside the door, he could already hear the sound of the guqin.


    He was late.


    After a brief hesitation, he called out, "Senior Sister."


    A calm voice responded. "Come in."


    Junshi slide opened the door.


    Inside, a few performers were already seated, their guqins in front of them. At the very back, Rong sat elegantly. Her deep red ruqun draped perfectly around her, embroidered with golden patterns. She held her guqin with practiced grace, her fingers moving smoothly over the strings. Her dark hair was styled with care, a jade ornament resting among the strands. Her lips curved into a smile-but there was something sharp beneath it.


    The other performers sat a little farther away, their gazes lowering slightly when Junshi entered.


    "Junshi, sit near me," Rong said, her voice light and inviting.


    She patted the pillow beside her. Unlike the others, who sat at a respectful distance, Junshi sat close-clearly marking his status as a main performer.


    He obeyed, sitting beside her.


    The atmosphere was strict, yet refined.


    Rong smiled. "Junshi, why were you late?"


    She leaned slightly toward him, her voice still smooth.


    Junshi lowered his head slightly. "I apologize, Senior Sister. I... overslept."


    Some of the other performers exchanged glances. Their expressions stiffened, as if Junshi had said something wrong.


    Rong''s smile didn''t fade, but something about it changed. The warmth in it felt... cold.


    "Oh? Is that so?"


    She leaned back into her seat, her fingers casually resting on her guqin.


    Junshi swallowed.


    "Alright then, let''s start."


    Rong didn''t give any instructions, nor did she offer any guidance. She simply began playing, her fingers gliding effortlessly over the strings. The sound was clear, elegant-yet deliberately difficult.


    The other performers followed, their faces tense. It was evident that Rong was playing much harder than usual.


    Junshi tried to keep up, but he had only learned the basics of guqin. Unlike guzheng, which Madam had told him to focus on, he had only practiced guqin for a few months before switching to self-study.


    Rong''s fingers moved faster. The notes became harsher, more demanding.


    The others barely held on, their brows furrowed in concentration.


    Junshi was struggling the most. His hands trembled, sweat gathering at his brow.


    Then¡ªhis fingers slipped.


    The wrong note rang out sharply.


    Everything stopped.


    Rong turned to him, still smiling. But her gaze was sharp.


    "Junshi?"


    His fingers twitched slightly. "I... I apologize, Senior Sister."


    Rong narrowed her eyes, her smile deepening into something... unsettling.


    "Oh? But I heard you learned from Yue very quickly. Why is it that you''re so slow with me?"


    Her tone was light, but the jealousy underneath was clear.


    Junshi lowered his head, not knowing how to answer.


    "Come closer," Rong said, patting the space right beside her.


    Junshi hesitated. "Senior Sister, please allow me one more chance... I won''t make a mistake again."


    Rong''s smile thinned. "Junshi."


    It wasn''t a request.


    Slowly, he obeyed, dragging his guqin and pillow next to her.


    Rong leaned close, pressing her chest against his back. Her hand covered his, guiding his fingers over the strings.


    "Let''s play together."


    At first, her touch was light. But the more they played, the harder her grip became.


    Junshi winced.


    Then, without warning, she pressed his fingers down harshly. The sharp edge of the strings cut into his skin. Blood welled up.


    Junshi flinched, trying to pull away.


    Rong didn''t let go.


    Her breath brushed against his ear. "Junshi, don''t disappoint me. I don''t want anyone saying that I lack talent compared to that bitch Yue."


    Junshi trembled.


    Rong''s smile deepened. She didn''t move away. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, watching him-studying him.


    "I''ve heard you''re quite the fast learner, Junshi," she murmured, her breath warm against his ear. "Yue must have taught you well."


    Her fingers, still entwined with his, guided his hand back to the strings. Slowly, she pressed down. Hard. The sting of the fresh cuts flared again, the sharp edges digging into his wounds.


    "Tell me, did she hold your hands like this when she taught you?"


    The sound of the guqin rang out softly as she played a familiar melody-one Junshi knew well. Yue''s teaching.


    "Or maybe she was different... kinder?" Her grip tightened. "Stricter?"


    Junshi said nothing. His body was stiff, the pain in his fingers growing unbearable.


    Rong finally let go. She sighed, straightening her posture, her expression shifting back to its usual elegance. With a delicate motion, she reached for a silk cloth resting on her lap and, without a single glance at him, wiped the blood from her own fingers.


    "It doesn''t matter." She waved a hand dismissively. "You''ll learn from me now."


    She turned back to her guqin, plucking a few effortless notes, then gave a satisfied nod.


    "Class is over. Let''s meet again tomorrow."


    Her tone was light, but when her gaze shifted toward one of the other performers, her voice sharper. "You stay."


    Junshi hesitated. His fingers ached, and a strange unease settled in his chest. But he didn''t look back.


    As he stepped out into the hallway, the pain in his fingers pulsed with each movement. He flexed them slightly-red stains had already formed along his palm, the deep cuts refusing to stop bleeding. The air felt heavier now, suffocating even under the soft afternoon light.


    When he reached his room, the familiar space greeted him with silence. His eyes flickered toward the cracked mirror near the dressing table. The fractured glass reflected his tired face in uneven halves, distorting his image.


    On the table, a book lay abandoned-its cover worn, its pages torn at the edges.


    Junshi paused, his sore fingers tracing the faded ink before he sat down. There were no performances or lessons left for the day, nothing else he needed to do. So, he decided to read.


    Without thinking much, he flipped it open.


    The world outside faded. The pain in his fingers dulled.


    And for a while, there was only the story.

 Chapter 4: The Past - I

    "Jun, what are you doing?"


    A young boy''s voice rang through the afternoon air, full of energy.


    Under a lone tree, Jun sat cross-legged, completely absorbed in an old, worn-out book. His long black hair draped over his shoulders, his dark eyes scanning the faded words with unwavering focus. His skin was slightly pale, his features sharp for his age, giving him an air of quiet refinement.


    But his clothes told a different story. A faded tunic, its fabric thinned from years of wear. Frayed pants, barely reaching his ankles. Sandals so worn-out they seemed one misstep away from falling apart. A farmer''s son. A boy born into a remote village, where wealth wasn''t counted in coins, but in the harvest and the health of one''s family.


    "Jun!" the boy shouted again, louder this time.


    The call carried over the fields where farmers toiled under the sun, but Jun didn''t stir. His fingers casually turned the next page, his mind lost in words.


    The boy, clearly unimpressed by the lack of reaction, marched toward him. He stopped right in front of Jun and, without hesitation, waved his hand between Jun''s face and the book.


    "Hey, Jun, did you finally go deaf?"


    Jun finally blinked, slowly raising his gaze. The boy now stood beside him, arms crossed, small fists clenched against his waist like an elder scolding a stubborn child.


    "Chen, when did you get here?" Jun asked, closing the book with an audible thud.


    Chen narrowed his eyes. "You''re reading that torn-up thing again?" He wrinkled his nose, his lips pressing together as if he were staring at a relic from a forgotten era.


    Jun didn''t answer. He barely parted his lips before¡ª


    Chen snatched the book right from his hands.


    Jun''s eyes widened slightly at the sudden movement, but he didn''t resist. He simply stood there, watching as Chen flipped through the pages.


    "Honestly, Jun, every time I see this book, I swear it''s falling apart even more." Chen held it up, squinting at the fragile pages. "At this point, are you even reading words or just staring at empty spaces?"


    Jun tilted his head slightly. "Chen, what are you doing?"


    Chen ignored him, lifting the book higher as if inspecting a priceless artifact. His expression turned comically serious, one eye narrowing as he checked every corner.


    Then, suddenly, he nodded. "Yes."


    Jun frowned. "Yes¡­ what?"


    Chen coughed dramatically¡ªonce, twice¡ªclearing his throat. Then, clasping his hands behind his back, he straightened his posture and started walking toward the fields with the exaggerated dignity of a great scholar.


    Jun followed, watching with mild curiosity.


    Chen spoke in a grand, knowing tone, his nose slightly raised. "From my scholarly eyes and vast intellect, I have deduced that¡­" He paused, shooting Jun a glance to make sure he was still listening.


    Then, he smirked. "This book is older than the oldest aunty in our village¡ªwho''s still searching for a husband even in her late thirties."


    Jun''s curiosity vanished. His expression turned blank.


    Then, without a word, he stepped forward¡ª


    And shoved Chen down the small hill.


    Chen yelped as he tumbled, arms flailing. He landed face-first into the muddy farmland below.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    A loud crack echoed through the air.


    "J¡ªJun¡­" Chen groaned, his voice muffled by the wet soil. His arms twitched weakly.


    Jun landed gracefully beside him, watching as his friend barely managed to lift his head.


    Chen whimpered at the sound of Jun''s footsteps. His words slurred, his tone pathetically pitiful.


    "Juuun¡­ Iii''mm¡­ sorrrieee¡­" he drawled, his face still half-buried in the mud. His arms twitched weakly.


    Jun crossed his arms. "Hmph. You should''ve thought about that beforehand."


    Chen''s fingers wiggled in protest, the mud muffling his next words. "Joon pleasiee¡­ forgevee¡­ merrr¡­"


    "Hmph."


    Chen continued to murmur unintelligibly, still too stuck in the mud to properly lift himself up.


    Fortunately for him, the ground had been soft enough to break his fall. The crack they heard? Just the sound of his dignity shattering into pieces.


    "What''s going on here?"


    A loud voice cut through the moment.


    A woman approached, her sturdy frame moving with surprising speed. She was on the plumper side, her round face red from the afternoon heat, her strong arms showing years of farm work.


    She walked straight to Jun and immediately grabbed his shoulders with her muddy hands.


    "Jun''er," she said, her eyes scanning him up and down. "You didn''t get hurt anywhere, did you?"


    Jun shook his head, his expression as neutral as ever. "No. But Chen fell."


    She sighed in relief, lifting her arm¡ªcareful to avoid the mud on her hands¡ªand brushed away the strands of hair that had fallen over her face when she rushed forward. "Huff! Hopefully, you''re fine."


    Jun pointed toward the half-buried boy.


    She glanced at Chen, shook her head, and waved dismissively. "Oh, don''t worry about him. This happens at least once a week. If I worried every time, I''d have gray hair by now."


    Jun glanced at Chen.


    It definitely looked like a matter of worry, he thought.


    His friend was still twitching, face plastered to the mud, his voice reduced to weak gibberish.


    Then, another voice joined in.


    "Jun''er! Chen''s mother! What happened?"


    A man approached, his deep voice carrying easily over the fields. He held a cloth bag in one hand, its weight dragging slightly with the farming tools inside. His loose tunic was rough, tucked into his tied cloth belt, and his straw sandals were caked with dirt from hours of work.


    His face was strong and weathered, his sharp features softened by the warmth in his eyes. Streaks of gray ran through his dark hair, a quiet sign of middle age and the years spent working under the sun.


    Jun''s gaze softened. "Father."


    Chen''s mother waved both hands quickly, her movements full of energy. "Oh, it''s nothing! The boys were just playing, and¡ªwell, you know Chen¡ªhe found his way into the mud again."


    Jun''s father frowned slightly. His eyes moved from her to Chen¡ªwho was, at this point, nothing more than a human lump in the mud.


    His brows furrowed, his expression shifting between shock and confusion. "Are you sure they were just playing?"


    "Yes, yes, he''ll be fine!" She waved a hand briskly, as if swatting away the concern itself.


    Jun''s father gave a small nod¡ªand an awkward smile, as if unsure whether to be reassured or deeply concerned.


    Then, turning to Jun, he smiled warmly. "Jun''er, it''s time for lunch. Let''s go home together today."


    He extended his hand toward his son.


    Jun didn''t smile. He hesitated for a moment¡ª


    Then stepped forward, walking directly over Chen''s back. His sandal pressed down onto Chen''s shoulder, forcing a muffled groan from the buried boy.


    Chen, still face-down, let out a broken whimper.


    Neither of them looked back.


    As they made their way home, they passed through the village, where everyone knew each other well. The people here were close-knit, bound by shared work and familiar faces.


    The village itself was small, but its people had never struggled with hunger. Farming and fishing weren''t just livelihoods; they were traditions, perfected through generations. Each family had learned the ways of the land and water, passing down knowledge so refined that their survival was never in doubt.


    Even if a field became infertile, there were always others to plow. Even if a river''s fish seemed fewer one year, the waters ran deep, teeming with life that no generation had ever managed to deplete. Food was never a concern. They worked hard, ate well, and lived without fear of scarcity.


    And once a year, they celebrated this work. That celebration was tomorrow night.


    The harvest festival¡ªa time of simple joys and quiet gratitude. A time when the village would gather under the soft glow of oil lamps, sharing food, stories, and laughter. When they would drink rice wine that had fermented for a full year, eat venison and boar, meat rarely hunted, and savor fish that could only be caught in this season.


    The air already carried a sense of anticipation, reflected in the way villagers greeted Jun''s father more than usual. Some paused to chat, others gave him knowing smiles, their voices light with excitement.


    Many stopped to acknowledge Jun as well. Some reached out to pinch his cheeks, chuckling in quiet amusement at his indifferent reaction. Unlike most children who would squirm or complain, Jun barely reacted¡ªwhether from patience or simply not caring.


    Jun and his father walked in silence, the sound of their footsteps blending with the distant murmur of villagers preparing for the festival.


    Then, as they reached home, Jun''s father slowed his steps.


    Their house stood at the edge of the village¡ªa small hut, its wooden walls weathered but sturdy. Sunlight cast long shadows across the uneven dirt path leading to the entrance.


    From the open window, the soft crackle of burning wood could be heard. Smoke drifted from the mud stove where Jun''s mother was cooking, the scent of steaming rice and fresh vegetables mixing with the warm afternoon air.

 Chapter 5: The Past - II

    Zhen pushed open the wooden door, stepping inside with Jun trailing quietly behind him.


    The hut was small and cramped, its wooden walls worn with age. The thatched roof had gaps that let in slivers of light, casting uneven patterns on the dirt floor. A few woven mats were spread near the stove, where the family usually ate their meals. In the corner, a clay stove crackled softly, the faint scent of burning wood and steaming rice thick in the air.


    Near the stove, Hui crouched low, fanning the fire with a bamboo fan. She wore a simple, faded tunic, her sleeves rolled past her elbows. Her hands, darkened with soot, moved with practiced efficiency as she adjusted the wood beneath the pot.


    Despite the roughness of village life, Hui carried an understated beauty. Her black hair, tied back in a loose knot, had a few strands falling near her face, unintentionally framing it with a quiet elegance. Her skin, slightly pale like Jun¡¯s, had a softness untouched by powders or adornments. Slim-faced with delicate features, she wasn¡¯t striking, but there was a natural charm to her¡ªa beauty shaped by simplicity rather than embellishment.


    Zhen exhaled as he set his bag down by the door, dusting off his clothes.


    ¡°Hui, is lunch ready or not?¡±


    Hui stood up, shaking the soot from her hands before dipping them into a clay bowl of water. Without looking at him, she answered, ¡°Zhen.¡± Her voice carried the familiar warmth of home¡ªunpolished yet steady.


    She wiped her hands dry on the rough cloth hanging from a wooden peg on the wall.


    ¡°The rice is almost ready. I just need you to bring some fish to fry,¡± Hui said, stepping closer to Zhen.


    Zhen frowned. ¡°Fish? Today?¡± He started to protest but hesitated when he met Hui¡¯s gaze.


    She didn¡¯t interrupt him, nor did she scold him. She simply frowned¡ªnot in anger, but with quiet expectation. A look that said, think carefully.


    And Zhen did. The weight of her gaze lingered, stirring the memory of last night¡¯s dinner.


    He had seen Jun gnawing on fish bones. When asked why¡ªwhen those needle-like bones could seriously harm him¡ªJun had looked up with a quiet resignation in his eyes and said, ¡°I like this fish, but we don¡¯t have any left, so I¡¯m chewing the bones.¡±


    Maybe it was Zhen¡¯s fatherly love. Or maybe it was guilt¡ªguilt that there hadn¡¯t been enough fish to fill his son¡¯s belly. He had patted Jun¡¯s head, promising they¡¯d have fried fish tomorrow, as much as he wanted.


    Jun didn¡¯t look excited. He didn¡¯t have the wide-eyed anticipation of a child looking forward to a promised treat. He only sighed and went back to chewing. When Hui took the bones away, Jun looked like he might protest¡ªbut instead, he just washed his hands and went to sleep. Like an old man too tired to argue.


    Zhen exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Ah¡­ right.¡±


    Hui turned back to the stove, lifting the lid off the pot to check the rice. ¡°If you go now, you¡¯ll be back before it¡¯s done cooking.¡±


    Zhen glanced at the door, reluctant. ¡°The harvest festival is tomorrow,¡± he said slowly, as if trying to reason with himself. ¡°Will the river even have any fish left?¡±


    Hui didn¡¯t answer right away. She hummed softly, neither agreeing or disagreeing.


    Then, after a moment, she turned her head to look at him and said, ¡°Try the pond in the bamboo forest.¡±


    Zhen¡¯s expression tightened. ¡°That pond?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a bit far, isn¡¯t it?¡± His tone was casual, but his expression said I really don¡¯t want to go.


    Hui¡¯s brow twitched. ¡°So?¡± Her voice rose slightly.


    Zhen sighed, this time in defeat.


    Hui turned back to the rice and added, ¡°And take Jun¡¯er with you.¡±


    Jun had been standing there the whole time, silent, his eyes fixed on the firewood burning beneath the stove.


    Zhen scratched his head. ¡°Alright, alright.¡±


    As he moved toward the door, Hui called out, ¡°Don¡¯t forget the bucket and the fishing rod.¡±


    Zhen, already stepping outside, simply raised his hand¡ªbucket in tow¡ªas if to say, I¡¯m not that unreliable.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Jun took his father¡¯s hand and matched his pace, walking quietly by his side.


    Jun and Zhen made their way towards the pond, nestled deep within the bamboo forest. Though it was considered nearby, the journey still took about an hour on foot. And that wasn¡¯t even counting the time it would take to catch a fish.


    If not for the harvest festival, Zhen would have taken Jun to the river, where most of the village fished together. But with the festival preparations underway, the river was likely empty.


    As they walked, they passed several villagers. Zhen greeted them warmly, exchanging easy conversation. Jun, as always, remained quiet, only speaking when spoken to. He never complained about the long walk, never asked to stop. But even if he didn¡¯t voice his discomfort, his body spoke for him.


    After half an hour, the strain started to show. His pace slowed, his breathing grew uneven, but Zhen, lost in thought, didn¡¯t notice.


    The towering bamboo trees came into view, their tall, slender stalks swaying gently with the wind. Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, scattering patches of gold across the forest floor. The rustling leaves whispered above them, and the scent of damp earth mixed with the faint sweetness of bamboo shoots.


    Then, Jun stopped.


    Without a word, he pulled his hand from Zhen¡¯s grasp and bent forward, hands bracing against his knees. His small chest rose and fell sharply, his shoulders trembling slightly. A long walk like this was simply too much for a child his age.


    Zhen finally noticed.


    ¡°Jun¡¯er!¡± He rushed to his son¡¯s side, bending down on one knee, his other leg pressing into the dirt without care for his now-dirtied clothes. His hands reached out instinctively, steadying Jun as his brows furrowed with deep concern.


    ¡°Jun¡¯er, I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said, his voice thick with guilt. His face twisted¡ªnot just with regret, but with the weight of realization. How could he have been so careless? His son, so quiet, so uncomplaining, had been enduring this alone. Zhen clenched his jaw, his heart aching.


    Jun, seeing his father¡¯s expression, seemed to forget his own discomfort. His small hands reached up, cupping Zhen¡¯s face. ¡°Father, it¡¯s okay,¡± he said, his voice soft, reassuring. He placed his other hand on Zhen¡¯s cheek, patting it lightly. ¡°If I rest for a few moments, I¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Zhen looked at him, his face unreadable for a moment¡ªthen, he let out a quiet sigh. His expression, though touched by guilt, remained steady, carrying the weight of fatherly dignity. This child¡­


    Without another word, Zhen straightened up, then bent down and lifted Jun onto his shoulders.


    Jun blinked in surprise. ¡°Father, what are you doing? I¡¯m not a child¡ª¡±


    Zhen interrupted, his voice light but firm. ¡°Jun¡¯er, hold onto my head tightly. We¡¯re close to the pond, so let¡¯s hurry and catch some fish. Your mother must be hungry too.¡±


    Jun hesitated for a moment, then murmured, ¡°Okay.¡± A faint, shy flush crept onto his cheeks.


    Zhen chuckled softly. He made sure Jun didn¡¯t hear it, but seeing his usually stoic son with such an embarrassed expression was unexpectedly endearing.


    Soon, they reached the pond.


    The clearing opened before them, revealing a serene body of water, its surface reflecting the sky like polished jade. The bamboo trees leaned over the edges, their reflections swaying with the ripples. Birds chirped from hidden perches, and dragonflies flitted across the water, their wings catching the light. The air smelled fresh, carrying the damp scent of water and earth.


    For a moment, both father and son stood there, simply taking it in. The stillness, the quiet beauty¡ªit felt peaceful. Wholesome.


    Then Zhen frowned.


    ¡°¡­Jun¡¯er,¡± he said slowly.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I forgot the fishing rod.¡±


    A heavy silence fell between them.


    Jun stared at him.


    Zhen stared back.


    Jun sighed, rubbing his forehead with his palm, the motion slow but unmistakable¡ªa silent display of exasperation.


    Zhen, feeling the weight of his son¡¯s unimpressed silence, quickly straightened up. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t worry! I¡¯ll figure something out.¡± His voice carried an exaggerated confidence, as if this had been his plan all along.


    Without hesitation, he pulled out the small knife he always kept on him and strode toward a bamboo stalk. With a few practiced movements, he cut it down and stripped it, fashioning a makeshift fishing rod with ease. Holding it up, he turned back to Jun with a triumphant grin.


    ¡°See? Your father is a genius,¡± he declared, giving the rod a small shake as if to show off his handiwork.


    Jun¡¯s expression remained utterly blank. Not narrowed eyes, not annoyance¡ªjust a stare of pure, unimpressed neutrality.


    Zhen coughed into his fist, shifting slightly. ¡°¡­You could at least pretend to be amazed.¡±


    Jun Jun¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. If anything, he looked even less impressed.


    ¡°Ungrateful child,¡± Zhen muttered under his breath, though his lips twitched slightly in amusement.


    Despite the rough start, they caught enough fish, and with their task complete, Zhen effortlessly lifted Jun onto his shoulders once more.


    ¡°Jun¡¯er, are you ready?¡±


    Jun, now more relaxed after the tiring trip, gave a slow nod. ¡°Yes.¡± His voice was calm, his eyes carrying the quiet satisfaction of a child who had accomplished something¡ªbut also the slight fatigue of someone resigned to their father¡¯s antics.


    Zhen grinned. ¡°Then hold on tight! Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Without warning, he started walking fast, almost jogging, the bucket of fish swinging from his other hand.


    They walked out of the forest safely, the golden hues of late afternoon spilling over the landscape. But just as Zhen¡¯s foot left the bamboo-covered ground and stepped onto the open path¡ª


    He stopped.

 Chapter 6: The Past - III

    Jun sensed something was wrong.


    ¡°Father?¡± He tapped Zhen¡¯s forehead, but there was no response. ¡°Father? Father!¡±


    His voice grew louder, more desperate.


    Zhen didn¡¯t move.


    Jun¡¯s small hands trembled as he grabbed Zhen¡¯s face, shaking him slightly. He pulled at his father¡¯s hair, trying to get a reaction.


    But Nothing.


    Then, his eyes flicked to the bucket of fish.


    They had stopped moving. The birds had gone silent. The ever-present hum of insects had vanished.


    The world had stopped.


    A creeping, suffocating realization settled over him. Even though he was barely ten and didn¡¯t fully understand time, he instinctively knew¡ªthis wasn¡¯t natural.


    His body turned cold.


    He tapped Zhen¡¯s forehead again, harder this time. His fingers felt numb. ¡°Father¡­ wake up.¡±


    No response.


    Jun¡¯s chest tightened.


    What if something had happened to Father? What if¡­ he never moves again?


    The moment stretched, strange and heavy.


    Then Jun shook his head. No¡ªhe had to get help.


    But there was a problem.


    He was still on Zhen¡¯s shoulders¡ªtoo high for a safe jump. His gaze dropped to the ground, his mind racing through the pain and bruises he would surely suffer.


    But there was no other way.


    He clenched his teeth, closed his eyes, and jumped.


    Except¡ª


    There was no impact.


    No pain.


    No ground beneath his feet.


    He opened his eyes.


    He was floating.


    His arms flailed, legs kicked, but there was nothing to grab onto. He was weightless, suspended midair. It was the same helplessness he had felt when he fell into the river, unable to do anything. But unlike the water that had threatened to drown him, this was different. There was no struggle, no suffocation¡ªonly silence and the unsettling sensation of being unanchored.


    And then¡ª


    Clap. Clap.


    A slow, deliberate applause echoed through the air.


    Jun¡¯s head snapped toward the sound.


    The bamboo forest had changed. The warm summer air had vanished, replaced by thick fog that swallowed the trees. The green canopy darkened, and a crisp chill clung to the air.


    Then¡ª


    Crunch.


    Footsteps.


    The sound of something stepping on dry leaves.


    The season had shifted. The ground, once full of lush summer grass, was now littered with brittle, fallen leaves.


    Through the shifting fog, a figure emerged.


    He wore a black changshan embroidered with intricate gold and red patterns. His hair was long and dark, but his face¡­ his face wasn¡¯t clear. It was blurred, as if covered in shifting black smoke. Only his sharp chin and teeth, as sharp as fangs, were visible.


    His presence felt unnatural.


    ¡°Yes,¡± the man murmured. His deep voice didn¡¯t just echo¡ªit reverberated, as if the air itself carried his words.


    Jun¡¯s breath caught.


    The man wasn¡¯t looking at Zhen. He wasn¡¯t looking at the frozen world around them.


    He was looking only at Jun.


    Jun wanted to call for his father. His throat tightened, his voice stuck somewhere between his chest and his mouth. The words were there, but they wouldn¡¯t come out properly.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    His body, which had been able to move freely in the frozen world moments ago, was now as paralyzed as everything else. He was still floating in midair, trapped in this unnatural moment. Only his mind remained untouched, his thoughts racing in silent panic.


    The man took another step forward.


    Jun felt an uneasy tension spread through his body.


    The man reached out and tilted Jun¡¯s chin up with a long, claw-like fingernail.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he repeated, lips curling into a smile that revealed his sharp, fang-like teeth. ¡°You look just like I envisioned.¡±


    Jun¡¯s body shivered involuntarily, his wide eyes locked onto the man¡¯s blurred face. He wanted to back away, to swat the man¡¯s hand aside, but his limbs were frozen. His heart pounded, his stomach twisted.


    ¡°Let me give you a parting gift for our first¡ª¡±


    The man paused. Withdrew his hand. Tapped his own chin, as if reconsidering.


    ¡°I suppose this would be our second meeting,¡± he mused to himself. Then he waved it off. ¡°Ah, well, it doesn¡¯t matter.¡±


    His smile deepened. The sharp points of his teeth made the expression more ominous.


    He leaned in slightly, whispering near Jun¡¯s ear.


    ¡°Let¡¯s meet again in ten years.¡±


    And then¡ª


    He vanished.


    The next moment¡ª


    Jun dropped.


    He hit the ground, the impact softened as if something had cushioned his fall.


    Time resumed.


    The birds chirped. The insects buzzed. The fish flopped in the bucket.


    And Zhen moved.


    Zhen stumbled slightly, his body jolting as if he had missed a step. His arms twitched, reacting to the sudden absence of weight on his shoulders. He blinked, disoriented, before glancing down.


    His son was sitting on the ground.


    ¡°Jun?¡± His brows furrowed. ¡°When did you fall down?¡±


    He quickly put the bucket down and knelt beside Jun, his hands moving over his arms, his head, his legs¡ªchecking for bruises, cuts, anything. His touch was rough, urgent, his mind still processing why he hadn¡¯t felt his son slip from his shoulders.


    Jun just sat there, staring at the ground.


    ¡°I¡­ I''m fine.¡±


    Strangely, Jun decided to keep it a secret.


    Zhen exhaled, his shoulders loosening as relief set in. He looked at Jun for a moment, as if making sure everything was truly fine, then simply sighed and ruffled his hair.


    ¡°Come on, hop back on. Let¡¯s go home.¡±


    Jun hesitated for a brief moment before nodding. He climbed onto his father¡¯s shoulders again, but this time, during their way back, he was quieter than ever.


    By the time they returned home, the sky had deepened into a warm evening hue, streaks of orange fading into the cool blue of approaching night.


    Zhen handed the bucket of fish to Hui. She had already chopped firewood, and as soon as she took the fish, she set to work. The fire crackled to life, sending flickering shadows dancing against the walls. She cleaned and gutted the fish with practiced ease, removing the skeleton while Zhen helped by skewering the meat onto sticks and setting them over the fire.


    Soon, the rich, smoky aroma of grilled fish filled the small hut.


    Jun sat quietly, eating his portion without a word, pausing every now and then as if lost in thought.


    Hui noticed. She nudged Zhen lightly with her elbow. ¡°Did something happen with Jun¡¯er?¡±


    Zhen, who had been savoring his meal after a long day, let out a tired sigh. ¡°No, everything was fine¡­ except when he fell off¡ª¡±


    Hui¡¯s chopsticks halted. ¡°Fell off? what?¡± Her voice was sharper than before.


    Jun, hearing this, glanced up from his wooden bowl.


    Zhen looked at his son, then waved a hand. ¡°Jun¡¯er, it¡¯s nothing. Keep eating.¡±


    Jun nodded and returned to his food, but Hui wasn¡¯t convinced. Lowering her voice, she pressed Zhen again. ¡°What do you mean he fell off?¡±


    Zhen exhaled, rubbing his temple. ¡°He didn¡¯t get hurt. It¡¯s just¡­ strange,¡± he said flatly. ¡°One moment, he was on my shoulders, and the next, he was on the ground. I didn¡¯t even notice when it happened.¡±


    Hui frowned. ¡°And he didn¡¯t cry out?¡±


    Zhen shook his head. ¡°No. He was just sitting there, quiet as ever.¡±


    Hui glanced at Jun, who was focused on his food, seemingly unaffected. A strange tension settled between them.


    They finished their meal in silence.


    Jun, having finished his dinner, sat staring at his bowl with unusual focus.


    Hui frowned at her son¡¯s strange behavior, concern creeping into her expression.


    Zhen, noticing her worry, exhaled and stood, stretching his sore muscles. ¡°Kids his age imagine all sorts of things. Stop worrying.¡±


    Hui smiled faintly and nodded, but the unease lingered.


    By the time dinner was done, the sun had fully set. Darkness wrapped around the village, broken only by the dim glow of oil lamps flickering in windows. Their home was no exception¡ªinside, the single lamp cast a warm, golden light, swaying slightly whenever the breeze crept through the wooden gaps.


    Zhen sat by the fire, sharpening his fishing knife.


    Jun sat near the doorway, away from the lamp¡¯s glow, staring at the sky.


    The full moon hung bright and heavy, casting silver light over the village. The bamboo leaves rustled in the distance, blending with the occasional chirp of crickets.


    Zhen glanced toward Hui, who was washing the dishes. ¡°Hui?¡±


    She hummed in response, a quiet acknowledgment to continue.


    ¡°Do you have clothes for the harvest tomorrow night?¡±


    Hui paused, turning slightly. ¡°I¡ª¡±


    But Zhen cut in before she could finish. ¡°And don¡¯t say yes if you¡¯re talking about that worn-out tunic. That thing¡¯s falling apart.¡±


    Hui smiled slightly, tilting her head. ¡°It¡¯s still wearable.¡±


    Zhen gave her a flat look. ¡°Let¡¯s go to the marketplace tomorrow. They¡¯re selling clothes cheap for the festival.¡±


    Hui hesitated, her smile turning a little forced. ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. We don¡¯t have many taels right now.¡±


    Zhen scraped the knife against the whetstone, his tone casual. ¡°Might be nice for Jun¡¯er if we went.¡±


    Hui blinked, then murmured, ¡°I do have some taels saved up.¡±


    Zhen¡¯s lips curved into a small smile. He didn¡¯t say anything else, just returned to his task.


    "Hui also returned to washing the dishes, her worries about Jun easing slightly.