The chilly morning air lingered over the quiet city streets, where a fragile-looking boy walked alone with tired eyes and hands buried deep in his worn pockets. His name was Max, and though his shoulders were thin and his expression calm, there was a weight in his gaze that spoke of countless lonely nights. He walked past old brick buildings and flickering street lamps, the early morning light barely pushing away the shadows. Each step echoed a quiet determination.
Max had always walked through life alone. From the day he could remember, the orphanage halls were cold and silent, filled with the distant cries of children who eventually stopped hoping. He grew up learning not to expect warmth—only surviving from one day to the next.
After turning seventeen, he left the orphanage behind and entered the real world with nothing but his determination. Max spent a year working various part-time jobs, barely earning enough to eat and pay rent, but he never complained. Though the work was exhausting, he kept going, driven by the quiet hope of becoming a civil servant one day and eventually marrying a beautiful woman who might finally bring light into his lonely life.
One late evening, while walking home through a dimly lit street, a strange man stepped out of the shadows. His eyes were unsettlingly calm.
"Do you still miss your friend from the orphanage?" the man asked softly.
Max froze. Before he could even form a reply, the world around him blurred. His legs gave out as an overwhelming dizziness consumed him. Everything went white.
When his vision slowly returned, Max tried to move but felt impossibly weak. Familiar memories seemed distant, fading like a dream. He realized with horror that he wasn't lying on the cold pavement anymore. Instead, he was wrapped in warm cloth, unable to control his limbs. The sound of distant voices and soft footsteps reached his ears.
Warm sunlight filtered gently through a small window, casting a soft golden glow across the humble wooden room. Max blinked slowly, his tiny newborn eyes struggling to focus on the blurry shapes above him. For a moment, panic fluttered in his chest — he tried to speak, to move, to sit up… but all he could manage was a faint, fragile cry.
At once, comforting arms lifted him, warm and steady. A woman's gentle voice reached his ears.
"There, there… it's alright, little one."
She held him close, pressing his head against her shoulder. Her hands radiated a natural tenderness that eased the fear in his heart. Even though her words were in a language he didn't recognize, the tone carried undeniable kindness.
A man approached from the other side of the room, smiling quietly as he looked down at the child now in his wife's arms.
"He has your eyes," the man said softly, brushing a finger over Max's tiny hand. "He's already a strong little fellow."
Max stared up at them in silence, shock slowly giving way to disbelief — Did I… really get reborn?
The couple exchanged warm glances before the woman leaned down and whispered a name.
"Welcome to the world… Lian."
Lian… am I Lian now?
A wave of unfamiliar emotion swelled inside him. In his previous life, he had never received such warmth — no mother to comfort him, no father to guide him. The memories of cold orphanage halls and lonely nights surfaced briefly… and then quietly faded as he took in the sight of his new parents, their eyes filled with genuine love.
For the first time in a long while, Max — now Lian — felt something he almost forgot existed.
Maybe… life won't be so lonely this time.