A piercing silence filled the room. In this nauseating stillness, the inhales and exhales of the young man were barely audible. Their rhythm repetitive and monotone. The young man's legs were crossed, in a meditative position. His eyes closed, his arms loose on top of his legs. In the middle of the room, his figure was absolutely relaxed. However, behind this loose and comfortable position, lay a hidden intensity. As if, at any moment, this young man could spring up from his feet and take on any opponent. The room and his body were under his complete control. Nothing escaped his senses. Though the man was silent and still, the sweat under his brow and on his clothes betrayed his seemingly relaxed expression. This was no mere meditation.

This has been the young man's training each night for the past ten years. A type of meditation in which the whole body is relaxed, yet tense. A process of tension similar to drawing a bow's string. Ready to snap at any moment. In his mind, a type of mental exercise in order not to tire his body after a day of training, but keep his mind sharp.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

The young man continues his training in absolute silence. His concentration never wavering. The tension building up at every breath.

Suddenly, the tension snapped.

The young man's eyes burst open and in less than a breath he jumped up and punched the air with an extraordinary amount of force. In that moment, the deafening silence transformed and resembled a tiger's roar. However, just as suddenly as it came, the silence returned, and only his breathing could be heard. As if he had just gone through 12 rounds of fighting, his previous controlled breathing was now erratic and irregular, clearly exasperated. The tension that was building up in his body suddenly released all in one movement. It was a sight to behold. His power and discipline unfathomable for a man his age. His eyes clear and unwavering, his will imposing and dominating.

This was Chen Tian Ming, a young martial artist renowned worldwide for his combat prowess.

—

There's an odd feeling when walking down familiar roads that have changed. Memories of times past that seemingly have no place anymore. The world changes almost too quickly for us to hold onto the past. Yet, here I am, walking down the road that we used to walk on every day, thinking about the way it used to be. In some senses, nothing has changed. The hot summer air is still slightly too hot, the moon's grace is still mostly undisturbed, and the trees still dance that familiar dance. Yet, unlike the trees that have grown older but only gotten slightly taller, everything around them has changed dramatically. The buildings have gotten taller, the lights more blinding, and the people have changed. What used to be a road with no strange faces has changed into a place where each mind their own business. The times of familiar shop owners inviting you for dinner or old grandpas imparting their wise but repetitive advice are no more.

I suppose it was always the fate of this up and coming neighbourhood, but nostalgia, all the same, filled my steps as I sauntered along.

I went inside what used to be the cafe where we spent our time fooling around and dreaming about our future. It's a trendy bar now, filled with people that care too much. Whether it's the girl with heavy makeup drinking her cocktail slightly too fast, or the man in front of her talking too quickly. They crave people's acceptance. I can only spot these imperfections because I too used to be concerned with how I was viewed by others.

I suppose growing up without a father can do that. Or maybe it was because I was ashamed that my mother and I were poor. That my clothes were always too short. That I was never as smart as all the other kids my age.

I thought about all this as I ordered a beer from the bartender. My demeanor clearly implying that I was not a chatty customer. All this brooding nostalgia changed as soon as she stepped into the bar. She caught my attention straight away. The loud clacks of her high heels stepping on the wooden floorboards were like an announcement that she had entered the room. Her long black hair swaying to the tune of her stride. I chuckled at the coincidence.

I knew her. It was unmistakably her, no matter how much she had changed. Luo Yi Mo. My first real friend and high school crush.

She too noticed me almost immediately. Perhaps I hadn't changed as much as I had thought. As if her meeting me here was predetermined and she knew all of fate's plans. Her stride didn't waver and moved to sit right next to me.

"It's been a long time, Tian Ming. It's nice to see you in here," she said. She looked me up and down as if to try to discover all the little changes that I'd gone through the years we haven't kept in touch. Her polite pleasantries contrasting her old brutally honest, almost vulgar self.

"Yeah. Same here," I said, not revealing the nervousness arising from my loudly pounding heart. All of this time and all it takes is one look from her to unravel years of distance apart. I guess I haven't really forgotten her after all this time. How silly of me, getting nervous from meeting a girl I used to know after spouting all that philosophical bullshit. I chuckled inwardly at my hypocrisy and attempted to regain my composure and calm my heart down and proceeded to ask, "What brings you here?"

"I'm meeting some girlfriends here," she mentioned as she glanced and waved at her friends waiting at a bigger table for her.

"Actually, seeing you reminds me…" I start to mention as if I'm attempting to remember old times. "How's Dong Qing? Are you still in contact with him?"

Dong Qing was the reason I'm even out here anyway. After what my mom told me, I could think of nothing else. Yi Mo, Dong Qing, and I used to walk these streets often after school. The people I thought I would always be close to. Friends for life, as we used to say.

Her usual composure wavered as soon as she heard his name. It was only for a moment, but I saw her facade break down for a second. She built it back up and regained her composure and said, "Yeah. Sometimes, you know how it is. With our families being friends and all…"

She started shuffling from her seat and was clearly done with this little reunion. I took the hint and said, "Ok, well. Don't let me stop you from going to your friends"

She got up and gave me a look that I couldn't quite understand. I chalked it up to the awkwardness of this reunion and gave her a nod to let her know that she could go party with her friends. They were clearly not here to drink and brood like me. Occasionally shouting and cheering could be heard as they were taking shots at their table.

She seemed to want to say something to me but stopped herself. She did however ask for my hand so that she could write her number. I willingly gave her my hand, and as she asked for a pen from the bartender, I took another good look at this first love of mine.

Her sharp jawline which once used to make her look masculine combined with her short hair back then transformed as she matured. She looked good. Really good. She adjusted her hair behind her ear and leaned next to me to write her number. It was only for a moment, as was finished writing on my hand and smiled. I had no other option but to smile too. I always envied her infectious smile.

She made a quick "call me" gesture as the bar started getting louder, and she took her and her high heels back to her friends.

I left soon after that. The bar too trendy and too loud to really suit my mood. Instead, I took the streets and wandered around my childhood. The times when things were simple and us three were always together.