Time was a strange, warped thing inside the womb. It felt like an eternity—no, it was an eternity. Li Fan couldn't tell how long he had been floating inside this cramped, warm space, but if he had to guess, it felt like three years had passed. Three whole years. Far too long for a normal human pregnancy.
"Am I not reincarnated as a human?" he often wondered. It was a disturbing thought.
The space was too tight to move freely, but from the limited senses he had, he could feel his body—two legs, two arms, a torso, and a head. Everything was normal. Yet nothing about this felt normal. On Earth—or the Blue Planet, as he now called his former home—pregnancy lasted nine months. Surely not years. Maybe the humans of this world were different. Or… maybe he wasn't even human anymore.
That thought terrified him sometimes.
But then, just as he was sinking again into the endless lull of stillness, something happened.
A push.
It was sudden, almost violent. A tightening pressure from below began pushing him upward. It wasn't the kind of movement he could initiate. It was as though the world was trying to expel him. Again and again, the pressure came in waves, pulling and squeezing from all directions. He quickly realized—he was being born.
Time blurred. Each contraction felt like it lasted a lifetime. His body was slowly forced through a narrow space. First his head emerged from the cramped, wet warmth. Then his shoulders, his tiny hands, his fragile chest, and finally his feet. In one long, excruciating effort, he felt himself freed from the darkness that had encased him for what felt like an epoch.
Then came sensation.
Cold. Wet. Air.
Someone had lifted him gently, holding him by his armpits. For the first time in this life, he felt the touch of air on his skin—a tickling, refreshing kiss that made his newborn body shiver. He wasn't used to such feeling. It was alien and beautiful.
He tried to open his eyes, desperate to see this new world—but he couldn't. His tiny body didn't yet have the strength. His eyelids felt like weights, his muscles barely responsive. It was frustrating. He had a mind of a grown man but the fragile frame of a newborn.
And then it struck him—he couldn't breathe.
His chest ached. His lungs screamed for air. Panic overtook him, and without realizing it, he let out a wail—an instinctive cry, raw and desperate. It was his first breath in this new world.
And it tasted like life.
That cry sparked commotion around him. Excited voices—mostly women—filled the air. He couldn't understand their language yet, but he could hear joy in their tone. Warmth. Relief. Celebration.
The hands that held him wiped his wet body with a soft cloth. The sensation was strangely comforting. Then, he was passed into another pair of arms—slimmer, warmer, more delicate. As he felt the soft rise and fall of a chest, the soothing rhythm of a heartbeat, he understood—
This was his mother.
He wanted—no, needed—to see her.
He struggled to open his eyes again. Once. Twice. But they refused to move.
Then he tried harder, fueled by the deep yearning in his chest—something deeper than logic, something primal. After what felt like another eternity, he managed to pry them open, just slightly—
And was instantly blinded.
The sudden brightness struck his retinas like lightning. He cried again, overwhelmed. But this time, not out of pain or fear. He could feel it—a gentle hand on his cheek, a tender voice in his ear. His mother.
She was trying to soothe him. Her voice trembled with emotion—love, concern, and exhaustion all wrapped in one. She rocked him gently, whispering sweet nothings. He couldn't understand the words, but their meaning was clear.
She loved him.
The cries faded as her warmth cocooned him. Slowly, he opened his eyes once more—this time with control. What he saw stole his breath more than the light ever could.
She was… beautiful.
Even disheveled from childbirth, her long, black hair tangled and her face drenched in sweat, she looked like a goddess. No model, no actress from the Blue Planet could compare to the ethereal beauty before him. Her skin was pale, her cheeks flushed with the effort of labor. Her eyes—deep, dark pools—were locked onto him with a love so fierce, it struck him to the core.
She smiled at him. A smile so tender and doting, it nearly brought him to tears again.
He had never seen anything like it.
Yet beneath that smile, he could see the exhaustion. Her body was weak. She needed rest. And yet… she held him like he was the most precious treasure in the universe, unwilling to let him go.
Li Fan stared at her, his tiny heart beating faster.
"So this… is my mother."
He felt something awaken in him—a connection, a bond deeper than memory. His soul, which had drifted through eternal darkness, torn and wandering, had finally found home.
In that moment, he stopped thinking like a grown man in a baby's body. For a few precious seconds, he just was—a newborn child, held in his mother's arms, safe and loved.
He didn't know what this world was.
He didn't know what fate awaited him.
But he knew this—he would cherish this life. Whatever it took.
As time passed in my mother's warm embrace, I found myself gradually adjusting to this new world. The strangeness of rebirth, the overwhelming sensations, the chaos of noise and light—it all slowly gave way to a calm, rhythmic reality: the gentle beating of her heart, the softness of her skin, and the occasional brush of her lips on my forehead. It was soothing, comforting… like nothing I had ever experienced.
Then, through my half-lidded eyes, I saw him.
A tall, refined figure approached us with hurried steps, concern clearly etched into his handsome features. His long black hair was tied back with a silver clasp, his face sharp like it had been carved from jade, eyes shining with worry—and something else—love. He was speaking quickly, voice trembling ever so slightly. I didn't understand the words, but I could feel the emotion behind them. His concern wasn't for me—it was for her.
For my mother.
I looked up at her instinctively, watching her expression. A gentle smile bloomed on her tired face—a soft, loving smile, like sunlight melting fresh snow. She gazed at him with warmth and tenderness, nodding ever so slightly in response to his concerned words.
It was a beautiful sight. And yet…
A strange feeling twisted inside my tiny chest.
Envy.
Yes, I knew—that man was my father. I could tell even without being told. The way he looked at my mother, the way she smiled at him, and how their eyes softened in each other's presence… that was a bond that only lovers, only soulmates, shared.
And yet, despite knowing this, something within me churned uncomfortably. The smile my mother had given him… the love and light in her expression…
It wasn't mine.
That tender smile, that emotion in her eyes—it didn't belong to me. Not yet. And although I knew it was childish and irrational, maybe even an instinct of the body I now possessed, I felt jealous of him. Of my own father.
He had taken away her smile.
She turned her attention back to me, as if sensing my restlessness, and held me a little closer. But after a brief moment, she looked back up at him and gave a soft, reassuring nod.
Reluctantly, almost with hesitation, she handed me over.
As his arms wrapped around me for the first time, I felt a new warmth—different from my mother's, yet still comforting. His hands were strong, yet gentle, as though he were holding the most fragile treasure in the world. His expression transformed the moment he looked into my face.
Joy. Pure, unfiltered joy.
His eyes crinkled at the edges as a wide, radiant smile broke across his face. His whole being seemed to shine with excitement and pride. His breath hitched softly, as though overwhelmed by the sheer weight of the moment.
And then I smiled back.
I didn't mean to—my body acted on its own, responding to the powerful emotion he radiated. His joy was infectious, and for that one moment, I felt a connection… a quiet acceptance.
He cradled me in his arms and spoke gently—words I couldn't understand, but his tone was filled with affection and awe. Then, slowly, carefully, he turned and walked toward the door.
He wanted to show me to the world.
Before we stepped out, I instinctively turned my head—just barely—and looked back at my mother. She was watching us with tired but affectionate eyes. Her lips curled into a final, sleepy smile before she laid back on the bed. A maid—or perhaps a midwife—pulled the quilt over her gently. Her eyes remained on me until they fluttered closed from exhaustion.
She had given me life. She had smiled at me. And now, she finally rested.
As my father stepped outside, proudly presenting me to those gathered beyond the chamber, I nestled into his chest, the distant voices of joy and celebration ringing in my tiny ears.
But all I could think about was her smile.
As we stepped outside the birthing chamber, the warmth of my mother's presence gave way to a chill carried by a soft morning breeze. The light was gentler here, filtered by elegant wooden eaves and the high walls of a vast courtyard that unfolded before us like a scene from a dream. The air carried the crisp scent of incense and the subtle rustle of ceremonial robes.
I blinked, adjusting my still-developing eyes to the brightness of the world. My father stood tall and proud, holding me carefully in his arms as though I were the most precious jade in the world.
In front of us, a large courtyard opened up—wide enough to accommodate hundreds, maybe more. A crowd had already gathered, standing in neat lines and semi-circles, all turned toward the chamber from which we had emerged. Their gazes were focused, their faces glowing with anticipation and joy. Some were dressed in fine robes of vibrant colors, others in more subdued hues—but all carried an air of reverence.
As soon as they saw my father, and me in his arms, the mood in the courtyard shifted. Murmurs turned to smiles, and the stillness broke into motion as people began to step forward, eager to offer their congratulations. Their eyes sparkled with genuine warmth and curiosity as they gazed at me.
So many faces. So many voices.
Men and women alike came forth, offering small trinkets, scrolls wrapped in silk, glowing stones, and even small pouches that shimmered with spiritual energy. Their hands extended one after another, gently placing gifts into the hands of a young girl who stood silently beside my father. She wore a simple yet elegant dress—plain but refined, the kind that marked her clearly as a servant of a noble house.
I watched her quietly take the items, bow politely to each guest, and step aside to gather the offerings in a wooden box placed nearby.
Each time someone offered something, they would glance at me with a warm smile or nod toward my father in respect. Their actions seemed rehearsed, ceremonial even.
A gift-giving ritual. A welcome ceremony. For… me.
I was being celebrated.
My father stood tall among them all, his face glowing with pride and joy. Each time someone approached, he lowered me just slightly—just enough for them to see my face. As if saying, This is my son. Look upon him and remember.
I could feel the pride radiating from him, the warmth in his touch, the tension in his posture. I was overwhelmed—by their attention, their emotion, their respect toward the man holding me.
But it wasn't over.
After the final person stepped back, the crowd began to move as one, gathering along the sides of the great courtyard. They were waiting—clearly for something greater, something that demanded their full attention.
And then it happened.
My father flew.
With a smooth motion, he rose into the air, soaring upward as though the earth's pull meant nothing to him.
For a moment, my entire body froze. I felt my tiny limbs clench instinctively, my mind spinning.
He's… flying?
How?
He wasn't stepping on anything, no mechanism carried him—just his body, effortlessly rising into the sky, me still cradled in his arms. I could feel the wind brushing against my face as we climbed higher, the world shrinking beneath us.
Who is he?
What is he?
Is he still… human?
Questions flooded my mind, relentless and disorienting. I looked down at the people below us—and no one was surprised. No one screamed, no one questioned. Some even followed, rising smoothly into the air after him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
So this was normal here.
Flying humans—or whatever they were. Was I really reborn as a human? Was this world so vastly different from Earth?
The shock began to fade, replaced by awe.
As we soared higher and higher, I caught sight of a structure in the distance—a palace, no, a divine hall—looming so high that its upper edges touched the clouds. Despite the distance, I had seen it clearly from the courtyard, and now I understood why.
It was massive. Beyond comprehension.
Like a floating mountain, the hall hung in the sky, radiant and sacred. Its wide staircases spiraled like ribbons, its walls etched with golden patterns that shimmered in the light. The closer we got, the smaller I felt.
After hours—yes, hours—of flying at high speed, we finally reached the colossal gate of the hall. Four guards stood at the entrance, clad in shining armor that flickered with runes and embedded crystals. They stood unmoving, like statues of ancient gods, yet their eyes tracked us with focus and discipline.
They saluted.
My father nodded once in acknowledgment and stepped through the vast gate.
Inside…
Inside was something I could never have imagined.
A corridor so vast that a dragon could fly through it without grazing the ceiling. Rows of guards stood in two endless lines along the sides of a golden path. Hundreds of them—each one stronger than any warrior I had ever seen on Earth, each radiating an aura that made the air feel heavy.
The central path was so wide that fifty people could walk side by side with ease. Every step we took echoed, reverberating like thunder in a valley.
And at the end of that path, deep within the hall, stood a throne.
Not just a seat—a throne of command, majestic and sacred, towering above everything else. A dais of white jade supported it, and behind it, a vast mural stretched across the ceiling—depicting celestial beings, ancient dragons, and battles among the stars.
As we moved forward, the crowd began to fill the seats lining the grand hall. Dozens, then hundreds of men and women dressed in formal robes sat down on both sides of the path, speaking in hushed tones, casting curious glances toward me.
But my father… he did not stop.
He walked steadily, confidently, straight to the end of the hall.
And then, he turned.
And sat.
Right on the central throne.
The seat of the head.
My father… was like the lord of this realm