Days went by, then months, followed by years, and without realizing it,
7 years passed.
Standing in front of a worn-down-looking hut made from mud and rock was the old man; his slender and withered appearance remained unchanged, like a timeless old tree.
Around him were similar huts and people dressed in ragged clothes covered with rips, their expressions devoid of joy as they roamed around, the bright sun creating a stark contrast with their dark moods.
To his right, A young woman with a smile as warm as the sun, long camellia-pink hair running down her shoulders and eyes to match, her face filled with innocence and purity.
Elegance radiated from her rosy pink cheeks and fair skin. Beautiful, like a butterfly in flight.
On his left was a young boy—no, a young man—with raven black hair that framed his already defined contours and ocean-blue eyes that held a seemingly boundless depth. Standing at around 5'10 feet, the 14-year-old exuded a resilient aura many wouldn't have at such an age.
The old tree and two saplings were all equally dressed in beggar's attire, a putrid-smelling gray robe with no shoes on, and around them was a heavy silence.
"Zhihui." Breaking the silence, the old man gazed towards the now-young man with a faint smile on his face, his eyes holding an array of thoughts and emotions.
"Hmm?" Zhihui glanced back with confusion on his face, then suddenly raised his arm and caught something flying towards him.
He opened his palm, and within it was a small metallic ring with a gray crystal the size of a pebble and strange ancient markings etched on the sides of the ring.
"Wear it and imbue spiritual energy into it." The old man said softly. Zhihui followed his words and placed the ring on his index finger. The minute he did so, he felt a prick on his skin and a strange sensation—a connection with the ring.
"Woah," Closing his eyes, he could sense a 100-square-foot dimension, about the size of a modern bedroom. Within it were four small wooden boxes and a small robe with strange markings on it.
"I believe those were left to you by your parents," the old man said in a slightly solemn tone, his eyes fixed on the young boy's face. "I've also left a couple things inside."
Zhihui remained silent, wearing a complex expression as he thought about the word 'parents'. His family from his previous life—he couldn't even remember their faces; things got very blurry whenever he thought about them.
He had a small hope that maybe, in a new world, he'd get a glimpse of what family meant.
Alas, it seemed his path was destined to be lonely.
He felt no resentment towards his previous family or his new family for abandoning him. Just for giving birth to him, he was grateful.
Although he'd be lying if he said it didn't sting a bit, Zhihui understood that it was out of his control, and being sad about it would do nothing for him.
'Nothing I can do about the past but, right now, the future.' He thought, clenching his fists.
With a new resolve, Zhihui turned to look back at the old man and Ai. However, as if reality itself had been warped, he found himself in an empty, blank space.
A strong blue glow suddenly appeared, enveloping him in its light.
When the light receded, he found himself staring at a pure white ceiling. He had lost all sensations, but everything around him felt oddly familiar.
Soon, a sound that sent his mind into turmoil echoed out, along with a gentle touch on his face.
"My little boy, they say you've got a few screws loose, and they can't help. Shameless, I know. After all the money spent, for them to pull out like this is ridiculous.
No worries though.. I will never give up on you." Appearing in his view was—Adam couldn't find the words—a face that radiated care and warmth, and wide blue eyes still focused on him. Weird.
Staring into the pools of blue, Adam felt a surge of familiarity so intense that it threatened to drown him. He wanted nothing more than to hug this person—solve this feeling of nostalgia lingering.
But before Adam could, the empty black space returned before warping once more, and Zhihui found himself looking at the old man and Ai, who stared at him with solemn expressions.
Zhihui murmured, "I got lost for a minute there. Thanks for the stuff, old man. I don't really know how to feel about my parents, but—" then suddenly coughed as Ai lunged towards him, wrapping her hands around him in a tight embrace. As if trying to squeeze the life out of him.
"Didn't I say no touching?" Zhihui frowned. Ai turned her head up and gazed at him, and in her dahlia-pink eyes, he saw his reflection.
At some point, unbeknownst to him, tears began streaming down his face like a river with its dam broken.
His vision was watery and blurry. "What the hell? Why am I?" Zhihui stammered, his voice breaking.
When was the last time he cried? Usually he would keep things in, but strangely enough, at this moment, he just couldn't prevent the tears from spilling out.
Within his mind, a figure bearing a striking resemblance to Zhihui buried his face into his palms, low whispers escaping its lips.
"It's my fault."
"I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry."
Different from before, the chaotic insanity seemed to have disappeared, replaced with a voice filled with sorrow.