I held onto my cloak as I stood in front of the door. Was I afraid? No, that can never be the case…But my hands were frozen, unwilling to move at all. I stood, waiting for someone to notice me and open the door.
I held onto my cloak as I stood in front of the door. Was I afraid? No, that can never be the case…But my hands were frozen, unwilling to move at all. I stood, waiting for someone to notice me and open the door. It was freezing cold...The wind made my bones shiver, my hands already dead and gone by the cold wind. My necklace touched my bare skin—the cold metal was just too much. Everything around me was just too cold…but I didn't say a word—I couldn't. I couldn't utter a word…It wasn't even snowing, yet I felt so cold.
My hands were hidden by my cloak that covered my entire body, it covered me and offered me the littlest warmth it could even as a mere object, a piece of cloth, a fabric that was woven into its current appearance.
I held onto my cloak as I stood in front of the door. Was I afraid? No, that can never be the case…But my hands were frozen, unwilling to move at all. I stood, waiting for someone to notice me and open the door. It was freezing cold...The wind made my bones shiver, my hands already dead and gone by the cold wind. My necklace touched my bare skin—the cold metal was just too much. Everything around me was just too cold…but I didn't say a word—I couldn't. I couldn't utter a word…It wasn't even snowing, yet I felt so cold.
I had crossed endless distances to reach this place, endured trials that would have crushed even the strongest spirit. And yet here I stood, paralyzed before a simple door. What was it, truly, that held me back? The cold? No, it was something else—something buried deeper, twisting through my head, coiling around my lungs. An ache I could barely name. If I knocked, if that door opened…If…
I waited. Waiting...Just waiting…I don't remember how long…But, I waited.
Inside, the muffled howl of the wind was barely a whisper. A young man gathered the empty plates left by some guests and washed them clean. The old man of the house shuffled in, his footsteps loud and clear, gaze sharp beneath heavy brows.
"Go and take out the trash." The old man ordered, His bulky hands were crossed with stern piercing eyes. "Yes, of course." He wiped his hands on a cloth, grabbed the garbage and left at once. He saw a figure standing outside the door. It was unrecognizable but he could tell. The server thought for a moment before he opened the door, framed by the dim glow spilling out from inside, was a figure cloaked in black. Almost ghostly in their stillness. The young man stood frozen, his breath caught in his throat as he stared at the figure before him.
Cloaked in black, the stranger's presence seemed to warp the air around them, as though they were part of the night itself, drawn into the world of warmth and light with nothing but a faint, trembling breath. The young man felt a mix of intrigue and concern wash over him as he studied the figure before him. Jiao Xian stood shivering, his cloak billowing slightly in the wind, and the server could see the outline of his face—pale, almost luminous against the darkness.
The wind howled in the background, but all he could hear was the eerie stillness between them. His heart beat faster, thudding in his chest, the weight of something he couldn't name pressing on him. Was it fear? Sympathy? Or something more unsettling? "Are you..." he started, his voice barely a whisper, unsure whether he was speaking to the figure or the silence itself.
"Do you need help?"
Jiao Xian didn't respond, but he felt relieved that help had come. The young man took a cautious step forward, urging him to retreat. "You shouldn't be out here," he continued, concerned about edging into his tone. "It's freezing. Come inside."
Jiao Xian hurriedly stepped inside, a hesitant movement that seemed to signal a flicker of hope. Jiao Xian opened his mouth, as if to thank the man before him, but only silence escaped.
The man was a little surprised but said nothing and went out to throw the trash.
I stood there at the front of the door until he came back again. It was dark inside but wasn't as cold as it was outside.
I waved at him and made way for him to pass through. The man looked at me and shifted his gaze with a simple smile. "Who are you?" he asked, closing the door behind him.
The young man's question, "Who are you?" hung in the air, yet Jiao Xian could only stare back, unable to form the words he so desperately wanted to say. He hesitated, lowering his gaze, his hand instinctively clutching at the fabric near his throat, as if the answer might somehow be hidden there.
The server, noticing Jiao Xian's silence, tilted his head, his curiosity not yet overshadowed by caution.
"You can't speak?"
He asked, softer this time, with a tinge of understanding in his voice. Seeing Jiao Xian's struggle, he added quickly, "It's all right. We all have our reasons."
With a nod, the server gestured to a nearby stool by the hearth, indicating Jiao Xian should sit. The warmth of the fire beckoned, and Jiao Xian found himself gravitating toward it, his fingers aching as they began to thaw, pins and needles prickling through his skin.
As he sat, the firelight flickering against his pale face, Jiao Xian's eyes darted to the room around him—simple yet welcoming. The stone walls absorbed the warmth of the hearth, and the faint scent of herbs and woodsmoke filled the air. It wasn't much, but in this moment, it was more than he had dared to hope for.
"Who's this?" An old man asked him as he entered the room. His eyes narrowed as he sized up Jiao Xian, who remained seated by the fire, his cloak still draped around him. The young man, who had gone out to throw the trash, stepped forward, offering a small, reassuring smile. "He's my friend… He came all the way here to see me, I hope you'll let this one slide."
The old man's gaze lingered on Jiao Xian, scrutinizing him as though the firelight might reveal some hidden truth. He crossed his arms, an unreadable expression forming on his face before he let out a long, slow exhale.
"Hmph. Strange friend you've got, boy. Silent, cloaked like a ghost... but as long as he stays in his lane, I'll let him stay," he muttered, though his tone hinted at a twinge of skepticism. "Just make sure he earns his keep if he's going to take my warmth and food." He turned away, shuffling towards the back room, leaving the two of them by the hearth.
I hadn't noticed the old man before, but it seemed like he'd been there the whole time. I wasn't particularly bothered by the fact that he didn't seem to like me but I still, however, felt a little annoyed by the way he talked. It didn't quite sit right with me. The other guy looked at me, judging by the way he did so, I couldn't really tell.
As the warmth seeped into his bones, the little man leaned forward, a glint of curiosity softening his expression. "Where did you come from, friend?" he asked quietly, almost as if he feared breaking the spell of the moment.
Jiao Xian looked at him, unable to answer in words, yet the story of his journey felt heavy in the air between them, unspoken, dead and gone by now. His hand drifted to his necklace, fingers brushing the metal as if it could somehow speak for him. The server leaned back as he settled into the silence.
Jiao Xian pondered on how to tell the little man next to him or how to start a conversation when he couldn't talk at the moment.
"It's pretty dark here. Want me to turn the lights on? I could cook you something if you're hungry."
He offered a small, reassuring smile and gestured toward the stew on a nearby pot. "How about something warm? It's not much, but it'll help with the cold." As he prepared to leave, I asked him a question. I needed someone.
"Can you hear me?" I asked him, but it didn't come from my mouth.
"You can talk?"
"No."
"Then..How? How can…" He turned his head around before sitting back down.
"Listen, I need some help", "Help?" He asked, "what kind of help?"
"I need a black dye, do you have a black coloring I could use?" He asked him, But the young man now looked a little confused. "Aaa..I don't know, but I can check it for you. Why do you need it though?"
"Personal reasons. Thanks for letting me stay here though."
"Ahh, It's fine…I'll go see if we got any, you just stay here alright?"
"I'll be right here."
Then the man left, he went to the backdoor that was behind the stairs. He didn't seem fazed or scared by the fact that someone could speak telepathically. It must've happened before…After a while the man came out of the room empty handed and went upstairs.
After sometime he came back down but with a bottle at hand. He sat it down on the table, finally having found what he asked for. "I got it." Jiao Xian smiled and took hold of the bottle.
"I'll get you something warm to eat. " Hui Liang gave a sweet smile before going to the kitchen.
Jiao Xian watched him as he left. Jiao Xian took off the blindfold that was pretty much loose from his eyes, his eyes that shone bright white, the devoid colorless eyes that reflected all colors even though it was one at last. He tied the blindfold around his hand as if bandaging himself. The room seemed to dim as he adjusted to the firelight, his eyes reflecting the fire that engulfed the woods.
When Hui Liang returned, carrying a bowl of warm broth, his gaze flicked once, almost involuntarily, toward Jiao Xian's eyes. Those eyes—strange yet stirring, oddly gentle but unfathomable, as though they viewed the world from a place he couldn't comprehend. Hui Liang placed the bowl in front of Jiao Xian and lingered a moment, his own expression caught somewhere between a smile and a furrowed brow. "Do you want me to wait till you're done or wait for you in the room?" he asked Jiao Xian, handing over a spoon. His eyes showed signs of curiosity and concern but his lips kept a soft and welcoming gentle smile. Even though he was shocked at the sight of seeing a complete stranger, Hui Liang, in spite of all emotions, held sorrow out of the most.
Jiao Xian didn't know what to say, he tried to think, throughout it all, he avoided eye contact with Hui Liang…It didn't sit right with him after all. After trying and trying.
"You can go. But, how will I find you?"
Jiao Xian asked Hui Liang, "I'll be upstairs, when you reach the top of the stairs, just turn left and the room you see at the very back is it. There's a red string tied around the door handle, it's impossible to miss!" And with that said, Hui Liang left Jiao Xian, Jiao Xian watched him leave.
Now, looking at the warm food on the table, the pleasant aroma piqued Jiao Xian's interest. Taking hold of the spoon, he took a sip of the warm soup.
The soup was warm–rather hot, with a flame-like burning sensation Jiao Xian couldn't stand. It was too hot. He did it once more, but this time, he made sure to blow it to cool the air. It wasn't as hot before and the taste was utterly the best he'd had since forever. Bit by bit he drank every last bit of the soup without realizing, only when the spoon hit the solid and empty bowel did he notice that he'd drunk it all. He looked over to where the soup was brought in from. Wanting to get more but something held him back. That feeling…But he went ahead and filled the bowel with more of that soup and sat back down to enjoy it once more. He had finished the soup completely now. Jiao Xian gave himself a hug, embracing himself for a moment till moving on to where he needed to go next.
He placed his hands on the side of the railing slowly moving forward. He moved just as he was instructed to till he arrived at the door. He pushed the door open, the faint creak breaking the silence he carried with him. He froze for a bit before he pushed the door open, the faint creak breaking the silence he carried with him. Hui Liang was looking outside the window, he had a book in his hand,
"Took you long enough". Hui Liang wailed. Jiao Xian entered the room, closing the door behind him. He sat by the bedside near him.