The man blinked open, greeted by the soft morning light caressing his face and the gentle breeze rustling through the window. It had only been five minutes since he had closed his eyes, yet the weight of his new reality pressed heavily upon him. His body felt strangely unfamiliar—this was Zhao Yun's body—but the memories and emotions of his past were already intertwining with his own.
Zhao Yun had been a child of a loving family, a stark contrast to the man's solitary upbringing as an orphan. He had yearned for the warmth and care of a family he had never known. Now, in this new life, he sensed the presence of his new family, despite his initial hesitation.
Slowly, the man sat up, the blankets shifting around him, and surveyed the room. The sleek modern furniture and sunlight filtering through the curtains created an unfamiliar ambiance, like waking up in a strange dream. He wasn't sure if the memories of Zhao Yun's life were truly his, but they were all he had now. Zhao Yun had been loved by his family, yet there had been a sense of distance—he hadn't allowed himself to fully connect with them. This foreign feeling was a stark contrast to the man's lifelong longing for that very connection.
Pushing aside the blankets, his feet touched the cool wooden floor, and he sighed. The strange ache in his back reminded him of his new body. Standing and walking towards the window, he gazed out at the modern cityscape. The towering buildings reflected the sunlight, while cars zoomed past on the busy streets below. People hurried along the sidewalks, their energy palpable. The world outside felt both overwhelming and oddly comforting in its chaos. This life seemed so far removed from his past, yet it was also a life he could now embrace.
The door to his room creaked open, and a soft voice pierced through his thoughts.
"Brother Yun?"
He turned to find his niece standing in the doorway. Her wide eyes, filled with concern, mirrored the way children looked at someone they loved. Her small frame, barely visible behind the doorframe, was evident in her earnest gaze.
"Are you awake?" she asked softly.
A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but it felt foreign, as if the gesture didn't belong to him yet. "I am now."
Approaching him cautiously, as if unsure of whether to intrude, she said, "I was going to bring you some food, but Mama said you might still be resting."
He looked at her for a moment, a strange feeling rising in his chest. Zhao Yun's memories were still fresh, still settling in, but the little girl—his niece—felt familiar in a way he couldn't comprehend. She had addressed him as Brother Yun, and it had stirred something deep within him.
"I'm not hungry right now," he replied quietly, trying to maintain a steady voice.
She nodded, her innocent eyes still filled with uncertainty. There was something so genuine and pure about her that made him uncomfortable. He didn't want to feel attached, didn't want to rely on anyone. Yet, even as he grappled with these thoughts, a warmth spread through his chest. This was his family—his family now. He had always yearned for this, hadn't he? The love, the connection. But it was still so new. It was challenging to know how to let them in.
The girl hesitated for a moment before making a decision. "If you need anything, just call me," she said softly.
She didn't wait for a response before turning to leave. As she exited, her soft footsteps faded away.
The man stood there, taking in the quiet of the room and the modern city outside. He thought about the family he had now built, and it felt strange how he had already begun to yearn for something more than an empty existence. The boy, Zhao Yun, had lived a life with people who cared for him but kept him at a distance. Now, the man felt a deep desire to have something different—to be part of this family and be seen as more than just an outsider.
His thoughts were interrupted by the soft sound of the girl's voice calling to someone downstairs. His gaze shifted towards the door, where the enticing aroma of food wafted up from the kitchen.
He wasn't sure how to proceed or how to fit into this new life. He hadn't anticipated the weight of belonging to feel so tangible and immediate. But with each passing moment, the warmth of this new family seemed to grow stronger.
For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, he could have the family he had always dreamed of. He wanted to let them in, but he knew that it would take time. And he still wasn't sure how to bridge the gap between the boy's memories and his own desires.