After that night—the night when Li Yuan understood the essence of water—everything felt different, even though there was nothing he could point to clearly.
But his heart knew.
When he walked in the morning, the dew felt like it welcomed him—not cold anymore, but touching his skin as if it recognized his soul. The morning wind, which was usually wild, now flowed gently past his body.
"Calm... be calm."
The whisper didn't come from outside. It came from within. The soul that was once silent had begun to speak… a soft, soothing voice, but full of meaning.
When he looked up at the sky, the clouds formed a slow swirl—as if the sky was conveying something.
A sign. A symbol. Or simply a silent acknowledgment.
Around the village, the plants grew more lush than usual, and some of the elders began to whisper that "this season is strange, but good."
Mu Yi, his friend, even once said while they were playing:
"Li Yuan, for some reason, whenever you come along, the weather always turns nice…"
Li Yuan just smiled. He didn't know what to say yet. But deep inside, he felt as though the world was finally seeing him back.
Elsewhere…
Far from the village, atop a mountain peak rarely touched by man, an old man deep in meditation suddenly opened his eyes.
"Someone... has touched the Dao…?"
"He is a wanderer, seeking the meaning of the world. He feels… not a practitioner, just someone who wants to understand."
He stood up slowly.
The sky had given a sign. The world had reacted.
Someone will come… or something will awaken.
This is the beginning—not just of Li Yuan understanding, but of being understood.
And the world will never be the same again.