I: The First Stop

It happened on the 15th of February at 8.29p.m.

When I left my apartment, I didn't think it would be the last time I'd see it. The evening air hung heavy with a sense of impending change, as I walked to my black Hyundai.

Under my arm, I clutched the coveted job offer from the engineering company that I had always wanted to join. I drove off, blissfully unaware that I was marking the final farewell to the sanctuary I called home.

Ever since mom's departure, I've been taking care of Dylan and Leah, but it's been difficult to fill the void that mom left.

Both of them are now settled into the distant dormitories of their respective universities, the echoing emptiness of our once-busting home served as a haunting reminder of the absence that loomed over our lives.

Desperate to reduce the relentless onslaught of financial uncertainty, I had thrown myself into a whirlwind of employment, each endeavor more exhausting than the last.

Yet, despite my tireless efforts, the suffocating grasp of poverty refused to loosen, leaving me to return each evening to the suffocating confines of my small, dark apartment—a solitary bastion of despair in a world devoid of solace.

As I embarked on the journey home, the desolate road stretched out before me, illuminated only by the feeble glow of my headlights. The night enveloped the surroundings in a cloak of darkness, shrouding the landscape in an eerie stillness.

A strange rumble sounded in my ear along with the ringing of a bell.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

The ring echoed through the air, its haunting melody a foreboding omen that sent shivers down my spine.

A Train?

My fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly as I scanned the shadowy expanse for any sign of the approaching locomotive.

Yet, as the deafening roar of the train grew ever louder, there was no warning, no flicker of light to herald its approach. A sense of impending doom gripped my heart.

My body was flung about like a ragdoll, tossed violently within the confines of the car as it careened off the road.

The screech of tires and the deafening impact of metal against metal reverberated through the air, drowning out all other sound. Glass shattered into a thousand glittering fragments, showering the interior of the car with a hail of shards as the vehicle spun out of control.

With each bone-jarring collision, the world seemed to blur into a dizzying whirl of motion, a surreal nightmare unfolding in the blink of an eye.

Drip Drip Drip...

The sound of liquid slowing dripping from somewhere was eminent in my ears, expanding throughout my body, matching the slowing beat of my heartbeat. The air hung heavy with the acrid scent of smoke and gasoline, a bitter reminder of the devastation that had unfolded mere moments before.

Through the shattered remnants of the windshield, I gazed out into the darkness, the harsh glow of the headlights casting long, twisted shadows across the desolate landscape.

The world seemed to hold its breath. And as the weight of the silence pressed down upon me, I was overcome by a profound sense of resignation, a quiet acceptance of the inevitable fate that awaited me in the darkness.

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In the quaint village nestled on a mist-shrouded mountain in Hua Xia, the morning unveiled a serene and mystical atmosphere.

Wisps of fog floated gracefully, veiling the lush greenery and cradling the wooden houses like a comforting embrace.

The air was cool and infused with the earthy scent of damp soil and fresh dew, carried by a gentle breeze that rustled the leaves of ancient trees.

Amidst this ethereal landscape, one small mountain Siyuan stood with humble grace. Its timeworn exterior boasted intricate carvings of dragons and phoenixes, testament to the rich folklore that dwelled within the village's heart.

A red, faded lantern swayed slightly near the entrance, symbolizing good fortune and welcoming visitors.

A single ivory butterfly danced gracefully through the sunlit meadow outside the house, its delicate wings shimmering in the golden light.

The butterfly, drawn by a ruby red color, fluttered towards a vibrant flower that had resiliently grown out of the wooden gaps of a window on the second floor.

Its delicate petals reached towards the sun, as the butterfly gently landed on the flower.

Sunrays filtered through open paper-thin window panels into that room on the second floor, casting soft, golden hues upon the room's occupants.

In the soft glow of morning, on a low wooden bed adorned with delicate embroidered quilts and silken cushions, lay a slumbering seventeen-year-old boy.

His chest rose and fell rhythmically with each tranquil breath, and a serene expression rested on his peaceful countenance. His dark hair cascaded like a waterfall, framing his youthful features, and his cheeks bore the rosy flush of sleep.

A sleeping jet black cat was curled up at the end of the bed as the sunrays gently caressed its fur. The rhythmic pitter-patter of droplets on the paper window spoke of a night well-spent in the company of rain.

...

The soft rustling of the bamboo stems and the faint chirping of birds entered my ears. I frowned and slowly opened my eyes.

A wooden ceiling.

I closed my eyes again, unable to fight the sleep weighing on my mind.

I felt something tickle my chin and scrunched up my nose opening my eyes again. A black furball with big green eyes stared into my soul.

Aww a cat in my bed. In my bed?

I jumped up scaring the feline off the bed as it scattered out of the room. I was suddenly wide awake and looking around my room...the room.

I jumped up, immediately grabbing my throbbing head in agony. The ground was spinning, and my vision was blurry.

I stumbled around the unfamiliar room frantically, tripping over a low wooden stool. I fell backwards onto the floor covered with intricately woven bamboo mats. My eyes darted around, taking in the intricate details of the wooden furnishings and the subtle movement of the crimson silk curtains in the breeze.

The events of the previous night came rushing back to me in a flood of fragmented memories — the siren of the train, the blinding flash of headlights, the sensation of my slowing heartbeat.

How was I alive?

At that moment the door opened and a man, probably in his 20s, walked in. His eyes turned as big as a saucer when he saw me.

"Zi Han! Young Master JunJie is awake! Quickly call his family!" he shouted out of the room.

The man who was dressed in traditional Chinese clothing, quickly rushed to my side and helped me up on the bed.

"Do you feel any discomfort?" he kindly asked as he checked my pulse on my wrist.

"J-just a--"

What is this? Why can't I speak properly?

''I-"

Every vibration in my throat hurts like hell, it feels as if I haven't used my vocal cords for a very long time.

"It's alright. You don't have to force yourself. I'm sorry if big brother suddenly asked you a question. You must be quite perplexed right now. But don't worry, your physician will see you shortly and provide a comprehensive examination. Everything will be alright."

Okay. That's kind of creepy.

Why is this man talking to me as if I were a child?

"However, this truly is a miracle. When your family finds out, they will be so happy."

My family?

I glanced around frantically and as if the man knew what I was looking for, he tried to calm me down.

"Don't worry they will arrive soon. Zi Han has probably contacted them and the physician already."

Hold on, did he just call me Young Master JunJie?

Why would he do that?

Adding that to this environment...I have a vague guess in my heart.

But how could that be? This wasn't some TV Show. This was real life. But what if my guess is right?

"M-ii-r-oh-r"

"You want a Mirror?"

I nodded.

The young man had a confused expression on his face but nevertheless went to fetch me a mirror. He came back with a tableside bronze mirror and held it in front of me.

I was taken aback by the reflection that greeted me.

In the reflection, was a teenager who looked about 15 or 16 years old.

His long black hair fell to his waist, framing his face like a curtain of silk.

His eyes, large and almond-shaped, held a depth that seemed to draw one in, surrounded by thick, dark lashes that accentuated their intensity.

His nose was small and delicate, adding a touch of refinement to his features, while his lips, though pale, still carried a faint rosy hue that hinted at vitality.

This teenager truly was an otherworldly beauty.

Who the hell was this person?