Days continued to roll by, carrying them into a new rhythm—quiet, yet warm.
Mei Yin kept her promise: she stayed close to Arashi by the lake—the place where their last memories with Arashi's mother had taken root, where silence had become home.
Meanwhile, Arashi grew busier, working hard to provide for the two of them, so their simple life could keep going.
Though time often pulled their paths apart—Mei Yin in her small field, Arashi in the rice paddies or helping villagers—they always found moments to sit side by side again.
Whether sharing lunch beneath the shade of a tree, watching the sunset ripple across the water, or exchanging quiet laughs full of meaning.
Their togetherness was never long. But every second in between... was enough to keep them holding on.
Mei Yin began to notice Arashi more and more in silence. The way he worked tirelessly, the way he looked down when shy, the way he never gave up.
And Arashi... he started to see that Mei Yin's smile made his days easier.
One afternoon, as light rain fell, they sheltered together beneath a large tree. Their clothes soaked, Mei Yin's hair clung to her face. Arashi tried to look away, but his eyes kept drifting back to her.
Mei Yin smiled at his awkwardness. Without warning, she took his hand. "You're warm..."
Arashi went silent. He said nothing, but inside his chest, his heart began pounding—faster than ever before, as if it wanted to leap out from the touch.
His hand stayed still, warm in Mei Yin's grasp, but his mind drifted somewhere else.
He didn't know what to say... only hoped Mei Yin couldn't hear the chaotic beating.
That evening, they spoke little. But since the rain beneath the tree, Mei Yin held Arashi's hand more often whenever they sat together.
Not long, but enough.
Enough to bring a comfort that needed no explanation—growing quietly between two hearts discovering each other.
Then, one night, Arashi came home late. His left shoulder was torn, blood seeping through his shirt. He'd been injured helping repair a neighbor's livestock pen.
The oil lamp in their small home was still lit; Mei Yin was waiting. The moment she saw Arashi's wound, she pulled him inside, seated him, and fetched warm water and a clean cloth.
Her gentle hands trembled as she cleaned the wound.
"You're crazy... how did you get bleeding?!"
With a mischievous smile hiding the pain, Arashi shrugged his healthy shoulder.
"Just a small scratch," he said softly.
Mei Yin bit her lip, holding back fear and frustration at once. She pressed the cloth harder than she should have.
"If you die, I'll have to find someone else to scold, you know!" she grumbled. Her voice shook, eyes glossy.
"Ah-ah... it hurts, take it easy..." Arashi joked half-heartedly, clearly holding back the sting.
Mei Yin only glanced briefly, then softened her touch.
"Don't make me worry again."
Arashi stared at her worried face. Only then did he understand: it wasn't the wound that scared her, but the thought of losing him.
From that moment, he knew the thing he truly feared was losing the girl before him—not the harshness of the world outside.
On another day, Arashi came home carrying something hidden beneath a worn cloth—a simple necklace, woven from small tree roots and dried flowers he found by the lake's edge. No ribbons, no wrapping. Just awkward knots and faded colors that still looked beautiful.
He handed it over with a fake casual expression, masking his nervousness with a flat tone.
"This... is for you. Don't misunderstand. I'm just... bored."
Mei Yin looked at the necklace, then at Arashi—a little longer, but full of meaning. A slow smile appeared, warm like the afternoon light filtering through the trees.
"If you get bored every day and keep making these, I wouldn't mind."
The necklace circled Mei Yin's neck, and Arashi just looked down, hiding the strange flush on his face.
Nights like these continued—filled with small talks, gentle teasing, and a closeness that slowly became more than comfort.
Unaware, they grew up—but still at the lake, as if the outside world could never truly replace the place where it all began.
Years passed.
Arashi and Mei Yin were now twenty years old, an age that brought them closer, yet also seeded doubts in their hearts.
They matured, but a part of themselves remained the same—hesitant, shy, and full of unspoken feelings.
In the mornings, Arashi usually woke early, working hard in the fields or helping villagers.
Sometimes, Mei Yin would come with lunch, her bright smile encouraging Arashi.
Though they were often together, an invisible distance lingered—a feeling never fully expressed.
One afternoon, while Arashi was fixing a fence at a villager's home, Mei Yin brought a basket full of food.
She stepped closer, but when Arashi looked, she quickly bowed her head. Her cheeks flushed slightly, shy despite the many times she'd done this.
"Oh, you're here again. Aren't you tired of bringing food all the time?" Arashi said with a small smile, though a nervousness was clear on his face.
Mei Yin shrugged, eyes avoiding his gaze.
"No, I just wanted to see you," she replied softly, with a different tone—gentler.
Arashi paused, his heart fluttering, but he tried to act normal.
"Oh... thanks," then quickly changed the subject, "There's a lot to do. If you want to help, come on."
Mei Yin smiled faintly, trying to hide the fluttering in her chest.
They continued working, but a silence lingered between them. They exchanged glances without words, yet the feeling remained.
Days passed, but that feeling stayed trapped between them.
No clear confession. No declaration of love. But something unspoken, flowing in every glance, in every shared smile.
They knew, though never voiced it, there was a love growing there. A love that couldn't be explained, yet still existed—like the wind guiding them toward the same path, even if unseen.
Yet, like the sunset suddenly swept by dark shadows, this sweet silence was quietly waiting for its fracture.
Arashi was walking home when the night felt different. Something in the air unsettled him. Every step felt heavier, as if the night wind carried bad news.
His ears caught distant, strange sounds—footsteps, and whispers he couldn't understand. Though he tried to ignore them, an increasing unease was unavoidable.
That night, Arashi wanted to buy flowers—not out of habit, but because his heart could no longer silence the feelings growing in silence.
The flowers weren't a gift...
but a confession that never found words.
Something soft, fragile—but honest.
And throughout his walk home, he thought of nothing else:
how to say
"I love you."
After paying for the flowers, Arashi felt something unusual take hold of him.
The flowers felt heavier in his hands, as if adding weight to a heart already full of anxiety.
The sudden restlessness made him uneasy. His steps quickened, though he didn't know what he feared.
Arashi felt he could no longer delay his journey home.
A deep feeling about Mei Yin urged him back, as if there was something urgent to say or save.
His heart raced faster, cold sweat dampening his forehead.
"Mei Yin... why do I feel something is wrong?" he murmured, but he could only speed up without knowing what was happening.
At that time, Mei Yin sat by the lake, eyes closed, enjoying the moonlight's soft glow reflected on the water's surface. The night was so still, as if the world had stopped moving.
The night breeze touched her face, carrying the scent of wildflowers growing near the lake.
But in the midst of that calm, Mei Yin heard something strange—a child's cry calling, begging for help from afar.
Mei Yin froze, an unfamiliar feeling creeping inside. The voice grew clearer, louder, seemingly closer. A pull she couldn't ignore, a gentle but certain tug—like something calling her from the dark.
Though Arashi had warned her never to go out alone, her gentle heart couldn't leave someone in need.
Without fully understanding why, Mei Yin rose and followed the sound. There was a soft pull in her chest—gentle, but sure—as if something was calling her from the shadows.
She couldn't refuse, even as the night suddenly felt colder than usual.
Her steps quickened, following the sound. Soon, she saw a frightened child standing beneath a large tree.
But something was off—the child's body was too still, almost as if waiting for something.
Before Mei Yin could get closer, a terrifying laugh echoed from behind, freezing her steps.
The laugh slowly turned into a low, menacing growl. From the shadows of the trees, a man appeared—his steps slow, calm, yet certain, like a wolf who knew his prey had no escape.
"Looks like we have a trapped victim," the man said with a chuckle.
His teeth were yellow and dull, his eyes glowing wild in the dark, like a hungry fire.
A sinister smile etched clearly on his face as his gaze locked on Mei Yin, who stood frozen in shock and fear.
"Good work, kid," he continued in a cold, flat tone, "you'll get your share later."
Mei Yin's heart pounded harder, as if ready to burst from her chest.
Her eyes shifted from the man to the child standing calmly beside him. Fear and anger mixed in her tightening chest.
"You lied to me!" Mei Yin shouted, her voice trembling with confusion and rage. "You used my kindness!"
The child only laughed—a cold, hollow laugh, far from the innocent sounds of children.
Mei Yin felt ice pierce her bones, a fear sharper than ever before. The child's eyes stared calmly at her, but his smile held a deep darkness.
"Pretty sister," the child said softly, almost like a whisper crawling into her soul, "blame yourself for being too kind, too trusting. Now enjoy tonight… with him."
Mei Yin stood frozen, as if her soul was torn apart by the child's words. She stepped back, knees weak, legs trembling. She wanted to run, but her body felt trapped in an invisible space that grew tighter.
Footsteps came closer—steady, heavy, full of terrifying certainty. The once peaceful and quiet night turned into a silent witness and a prison without an exit.
In desperation, Mei Yin tried to turn and run. But then she realized a bitter truth:
There was no way back.