The village of Cangshu sat deep in the Great Valley, an isolated sanctuary untouched by the din of the greater world. To outsiders, it was but a forgotten speck on a map, but to those living within its borders, it was the center of everything that mattered. A quiet place where the rhythms of life unfolded slowly, peacefully.

For Hei An, life in Cangshu was constant, a familiar hum in his veins that had always been there. Mountains, forest, rivers, simple ways of village folk—these constituted the fabric of his world. He could hardly even think otherwise, even as at times, deep into the silence of night, a strange emptiness tugged at his chest. But at dawn's break, when the warmth crept upon the earth, all else was forgotten.

A cool breath carried through the open window of his small, humble abode filled with the fragrance of the forest. Before the sun had awakened the treetops, Hei An was up, awakened by the now-familiar call of his father's voice booming up from down below.

"Hei An! Breakfast is ready!" his father, Hei Xing, called from the kitchen, his voice steady, almost like the mountains themselves.

It was still quite early, with the world outside still shrouded in the silence of dawn, but Hei An was already awake. His father had always been an early riser-to greet the day first. The crackling sound of firewood from downstairs and the smell of frying eggs filled the small house, warming it up with an invitation.

Hei An got up, stretching his limbs with a deep sigh. At sixteen, Hei An was still growing into his body, the muscle lines within him a little more defined with each passing year. His hair was dark, thick as night, messy, falling in soft waves around his forehead. His eyes were deep brown, almost black, with an intensity that made him seem older than his years, as though they carried a secret that hadn't yet been told. His face was young, but there was an edge to it, the angle of jaw a quiet strength.

He pulled on his boots and the creak of the leather worked across them as he made his way down to the main floor. The smell of breakfast lay over him like a gentle blanket, and now he could listen for the sometimes half-conversational hum of his father as he stirred the pot over the stove into a rhythmic sound that settled the morning back into peacefulness.

His father, Hei Xing, was a tall man, with broad shoulders, a frame that still held the strength of youth despite his age. His black hair was tied back in a simple knot, though a few strands had fallen loose, framing his face. His skin had grown tired from all the years of hefty work under the open sky, but in the brightness and clarity of his eyes, there was a quiet wisdom running far deeper than those lines across his face. Like Hei An, his features were strong but lean, his face set in that same solemn expression that made others believe he was always lost in thought. His eyes were sharp yet gentle, with a hint of profundity as if he too were musing over some things beyond the mundane.

"Good morning, Father," Hei An said, his voice soft but warm.

"Good morning," Hei Xing replied, not lifting his head. He gestured toward the table, where a simple breakfast was already laid out: steaming rice porridge, boiled eggs, and pickled vegetables. "Sit down. You are going to need all your strength today."

"Anything planned?" he asked, sitting down at the table.

"Not much," Hei Xing replied lightly. "Maybe I'll have you help out with some chores later. We've got some herbs to gather from the forest. It's a good day to be outside."

Hei An nodded, his mind wandering to the forest that stretched along just beyond the edge of the village. It was an old place, vast and wild: entangled trees, thicketed thickets, and those endless shadows. He had wandered the paths that branched off there so long he couldn't remember which, more countless times than he could count, yet every time he wandered down that road, something caught him that he hadn't noticed before. There was a whole world of forest within him, just as he was in it. His father had always forbidden him to wander too far into the forest, off into its deeper parts.

Some days would pass in absent-mindedness wandering to a mind that already thought of one absent individual, a mother he never had a chance to know. His mother had died while giving birth to him, her life demanded by the final act of bringing him into the world. All the stories he ever heard about her were that she was strong and kind, that everyone loved her. The only thing he remembered about his mother was the pain he felt whenever he thought of her. His father seldom mentioned her at all. He had locked her memory inside the house's silence. Occasionally, when Hei An saw the distance on his father's face, he wondered if that longing was what was lingering in his father's eyes.

Hei Xing didn't talk about her much. In fact, sometimes Hei An wasn't even sure how to ask. He had a thousand questions-all of which seemed to trespass on a part of his father's heart that he wasn't sure he wanted to uncover.

After breakfast, Hei An and his father stepped out into the cool morning air. Life unfolded in slow, predictable rhythms, so quiet that one might lose track of time. Familiar faces waved, the ones Hei An had known as a child: Cangshu villagers greeting each other as they passed by. Elderly women collect herbs, speaking in hushed tones as they worked. Sweat trickled down the brow of Elder Jian, who had been hammering away at new tools at his forge. The rhythm of village life hummed around Hei An, and for a moment, everything was right.

"Where are we headed today?" Hei An asked, looking toward the dense line of trees at the edge of the village.

"The east side of the forest," Hei Xing replied. "I need some herbs from deeper in, but I'll keep you close."

Hei An nodded again, glad to be out under the quiet companionship of his father, the only world he'd ever known. And as they strolled, he couldn't help but feel the familiar tug toward the deeper parts of the forest—the places his father always warned him to avoid. Something about those dark, untamed corners of the world called to him, pulling at the edges of his thoughts.

Still, he wasn't sure why.

Half an hour saw them at the edge of the forest, and the tiny village of Cangshu disappeared behind the giant trees and moss-covered rocks. It was a different world-the air was filled with pine and moist earth, and sunlight filtering through the upper canopy let streams of dim light on the forest floor.

Hei An pushed through the underbrush, crunching softly in his boots. The forest was always a calming respite for his mind. He took a deep breath and let the stillness wash over him.

"Let's make sure we get back by midday," Hei Xing said, sounding lighter now, though not without caution. "We've got enough to gather for today."

Hei An nodded again, eager to be out in the quiet of the forest with his father. The distant hum of village life seemed almost a dream now. Here, in the embrace of the trees, life was simple, unhurried. They walked in companionable silence, each step further from Cangshu's hearth, deeper into the heart of the wilderness.