He smiled and reached out his hand. He was gentle, his skin quite pale, and he appeared to be in his early twenties.
"Come on, hurry up. It's turning noon soon."
They walked together and eventually reached the streets. As they walked, he seemed to radiate warmth.
"My name is Tian Xue. I see you are not the talkative type—that's fine."
There was a language barrier between them, so he playfully pointed at himself and then at him, appearing to ask for his name. Although he did not understand Tian Xue's words, he was familiar with physical cues.
He had a name—or rather, it felt like he did. His memory had been fragmented, and although he remembered some ordinary information from his time on Earth, he could not recall his own name. That was quite odd.
Tian Xue observed this and did not push further. He asked in a joyful tone, "Are you hungry? As for your name, don't worry. Perhaps you are too exhausted. I won't press the matter. You can tell me when you feel like it."
He directed him to what seemed to be a home. Inside were several rooms, each divided by sliding doors. He had no appetite, but regardless, he ate—slowly and carefully. Thereafter, he drifted into sleep.
In his sleep, he had a dream. This was strange; usually, he never dreamed.
Inside, he saw glimpses of scenes like a broken recording. There was a serene countryside. A little boy was sitting on top of a stone, swinging his legs back and forth. Beside him was a little girl about his age.
She asked why he was hesitant to spend time with the others. Her name was Xing'er. She was lovely and sweet.
"I've seen you here a lot. You seem to always hang around here during the night. Do you feel lonely?"
The little boy did not answer the question but responded, "Do you know the one thing that makes existence the most pitiful?"
She seemed unable to answer such a question. It was odd for a young boy to ask something so strange. Xing'er playfully laughed it off. Subsequently, the little boy followed along, smiling, and commented:
"Is there enough this world can offer that I cannot offer myself? Although I sit here and stare at the moon, it's too far from my reach. Would a little death bring me closer to that desolate feeling?"
Xing'er again did not understand what she was being asked and responded in a solemn tone:
"I don't follow. What did you mean by that? What feeling?"
For the last time, he responded:
"Everything you feel merely amounts to a finite number of things. You may count the stars in the sky, but not the feeling of seeing them face to face. Xing'er, do you want me to show you?"
This time, he referred to her specifically, which intrigued Xing'er.
Although she did not yet know his name, she awkwardly asked:
"What is your name?"
After taking a moment to think, he gazed at her and spoke slowly.
"Wu Qiong."
The dream abruptly ended.
Perhaps because his body had endured severe circumstances, it jolted. This was an involuntary muscle contraction. He slowly pushed himself upright, and the silk duvet brushed off his exposed body. Bandages wrapped around his abdomen and forehead.
His hair was long and dark, flowing like water over his face. When he stood, he felt rejuvenated—though slightly dizzy. He did not mind it. In fact, he never minded pain.
A set of clothes lay beside the bed. After some struggle, he put them on. He looked elegant in the white clothing.
He walked slowly toward the exit.
"The sun is in the sky. Last I remember, the atmosphere did not carry any celestial bodies or vibrant color. It seems the environment has completely changed."
He stood for a while, leaning against the wooden door. Sunlight bathed his body. He enjoyed the feeling.
This was comfort.
In the courtyard, a woman's figure approached through the open entrance. Beside her, an attendant walked while holding an umbrella.
She suddenly called out, "Tian Xue! Is that you? Why are you sleeping by the door? Did you not heed my advice? You rarely sleep properly."
She covered her mouth and chuckled.
As she drew closer, she tilted her head in suspicion. A few steps away, she realized this was not Tian Xue. She had never seen this person before, yet she could not help but stare.
"Who is this person?"
The woman accompanying her replied, "Three days ago, Tian Xue found him wavering between life and death. It was beyond the village perimeter."
She froze.
"Beyond the perimeter? How lonely… It is dangerous beyond that point. Many vicious creatures lie dormant there."
She stretched out the back of her hand and lightly touched his cheek.
"How cold," she commented in a solemn tone.
"Xing'er, what are you doing here?"
From the same entrance, Tian Xue walked in, asking playfully. Xing'er turned to him and whispered gently, as if sharing a secret, using her hands as she spoke.
"He is asleep!"
"Xing'er—"
Someone murmured her name from behind. She turned around.
He was standing right in front of her, smiling gently.
"You're name is Xing'er? That is interesting."
At the same time, he suppressed the ripple that passed through his heart.
Although Xing'er did not understand his language, she recognized her own name within his words.
Tian Xue spoke for her, startled.
"You're awake. Did you sleep well? It has been precisely three days."
He nodded, smiling.
Tian Xue suddenly had an idea and gestured for him to follow. He showed him around the village. There were many houses. Upon reaching the center, an intersection opened up, crowded with people moving back and forth.
In one area, a man stood atop a stool, speaking loudly. His name was Zhao Yun, a divination practitioner.
Divination was the practice of seeking hidden knowledge or predicting the future.
Zhao Yun held an incense stick and spoke while swinging it around.
"In this moment, I carry what the past does not and the future—my friendly foe.
The future has not happened, but the past is self-occurring.
Will there be one who achieves what others could not?"
They passed through the busy street and entered another courtyard. Above the entrance hung beautifully carved calligraphy, though he could not read it. Intuitively, he felt this was a clan. The place was elegant and well structured.
Coincidentally, Tian Xue waved his hand and said, "This is the Tian Lan Clan. It symbolizes this village, distinguishing it from other places."
He was vague when mentioning "other places," as if deliberately withholding details.
"You will learn the native language of this world. You seem diligent and intelligent. I wonder how quickly you can adapt."
He chuckled.
"Wu Qiong."
The sudden utterance shocked Tian Xue. His confusion soon turned into joy.
"Wu Qiong—that is your birth-given name. How beautiful. Do you know what it means? Haha, perhaps you can figure it out once you learn to read and write."
Students began walking in from behind them, chatting as they passed.
Tian Xue seemed eager to leave, having urgent matters elsewhere. Wu Qiong was left alone. Though he could not yet speak or write, he entered and sat behind a handheld zither.
Musical expression was said to transcend language, touching the heart directly—it was an expression of the soul.
"It has been far too long. I have forgotten how to play."
He smiled with nostalgia.
He plucked a few strings. At first, the sound was disharmonious. Gradually, however, he began to relearn—at an astonishing pace. Though his memories were fragmented, he possessed an innate aptitude.
Before long, people in the courtyard gathered nearby, listening from a distance.
Wu Qiong wore a white robe that reached his feet. His black hair obscured his face from their angle. Only his pale fingers could be seen, moving intuitively across the strings.
He thought to himself:
"Existence is the most exhilarating state of being. Heaven is far away—but my heart is even farther from heaven itself. I wish to experience everything this life has to offer."
"Everything it has to offer."
"For the most beautiful song is one that resonates with one's own heartstrings. Within it lies an excitement that drives one to madness."
In the crowd, Xing'er was also watching. She had originally come to return something to Tian Xun; however, he was not present. While on her way back, she suddenly heard a melody resounding in her ears.
"Beautiful. When did such talent appear in the Tian Lan Clan? I haven't been here for a while. There seems to be a genius being nurtured. How rare."
When she pushed through the crowd, she saw a young boy playing the zither, resting against his shoulder. Before she could close the distance, a strange feeling emerged. Although he was only a short distance away, it felt like the difference between ground and sky.
Her attendant held her arm and gently pulled her away, and the two left together.
Tian Xun returned after one day and one night. It was early morning. He entered the courtyard with a scroll in his hands. After walking for a short while, he heard someone reciting words—it was Wu Qiong.
This is impossible, he thought. He has already gained a grasp of syntax and pronunciation. Such talent—what was someone like him doing beyond the village? Such a rate of learning leaves even me bewildered. I learned both the oral and written aspects of the language at age six.
He was reading overnight—no. He was also listening to the other students speak, memorizing their speech patterns, and using physical cues to understand meaning and intention.
There are remnants of ink on his fingertips. He has been writing and repeating phrases, then adding connectives to form complete sentences.
"Tian Xun, Xing'er was looking for you yesterday."
Wu Qiong did not lift his gaze from his work as he continued speaking.
"She left something for you. It is by the counter. Don't worry—I have not touched it."
He gently set down the ink and smiled at Tian Xun.
"A genius rivaling the Young Master of the Clan!!"