The nights were the worst.
Wang Shi barely slept, and when he did, the dreams came.
Flashbacks. Fragments of a past he had long buried.
---
A dimly lit hall. The scent of incense too strong, almost suffocating.
His mother lay on her bed, her breathing shallow, her once-vibrant gaze dimming with each passing moment. She reached for his hand, her fingers trembling.
"Shi'er…" Her voice was weak, barely above a whisper. "Promise me… you will not look back."
His small fingers tightened around hers. "Mother, don't—"
The words caught in his throat as her grip slackened.
The physicians stood nearby, their expressions unreadable, their hands folded in practiced solemnity. But something was wrong.
A shadow flickered in the corner of the room. Someone watching.
A voice—low and deliberate—whispered just before everything faded to black.
"It is done."
---
Wang Shi gasped awake, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. The monastery chamber was dark, the flickering candle casting long shadows against the walls.
He pressed a hand to his forehead.
The dream felt too real.
Was that how it had truly happened? Or had his mind twisted memories into something else?
You have been walking blind. But the time has come for you to open your eyes.
Elder Mu's words haunted him.
But the more he tried to grasp the truth, the further it slipped from his reach.
Changes in His Behavior
The following days passed in silence. Wang Shi withdrew from the monastery's daily routines, speaking little, eating less.
He no longer trained, no longer sought conversation.
Instead, he wandered. Through the halls, the courtyards, the mist-laden paths surrounding the monastery. Always thinking. Always searching for answers in memories that no longer felt like his own.
The monks gave him space, sensing the storm within him.
But Wang Shi knew he couldn't remain like this forever.
Something had to change.
He just didn't know what—or when.
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