The mountains stood tall, their tops hidden by soft silver mist that drifted slowly like silent spirits. At their base stretched wide, ancient forests, where the wind moved gently through sal and banyan trees. Sunlight filtered through the leaves in golden beams, making the forest glow as if the sky itself blessed the land every morning.
A clear river wound through the valley, shining like a mirror that held both earth and sky within its surface. Jasmine petals floated softly on the water, filling the air with a sweet, refreshing scent. Occasionally, silver fish leapt out, sparkling briefly in the light before falling back with a splash.
Beyond the river lay endless fields glowing in green and gold. Rice paddies glimmered with water, turmeric bloomed in bright yellow, and sugarcane swayed gently with the breeze. The whole land seemed alive—the grass whispered, peacocks cried, and bees hummed among the flowers. To stand here was to feel the pulse of the earth beneath one's feet, a place full of spirit and life.
But deep within the mountains, peace broke without warning. A sudden roar shook the land—wild, fierce, and unstoppable. The voice of a beast. The forest obeyed a harsh law: only the strong survived, and the weak were hunted. Here, claws and fangs decided fate. Hunters roared their victories, while the starving hid in shadows, their hungry eyes burning with desperation. Mercy was unknown. Life in the wild was a brutal, endless battle.
As dawn spread its light, the mountains turned gold. Mist rose slowly through the trees and drifted upward to meet the sky. Birds began their morning songs, filling the air with hope.
At the edge of the forest stood a small village, its houses made of stone and wood glowing warmly under the sun. Dewdrops on the flowers that clung to the walls shone like pearls, and the air smelled of wet earth mixed with blooming jasmine. Farmers carried tools across the fields, while the low calls of cows and goats echoed nearby, and the nearby river glittered in the sunlight.
In front of one such house stood a young boy, barefoot on cool, damp earth. His dark eyes watched the sun climb higher. He felt the morning air brush his skin, listened to the birds' joyful songs, and breathed in the fresh scent of flowers. To the boy, the mountains and forests were not merely land—they were old friends, silent companions. Each morning, it seemed the world itself smiled just for him.
But then, from far away, he heard the roar again—soft, distant, but unmistakable. The villagers might think it was just another beast in the wilderness, but the boy's eyes narrowed. To him, it was more than just sound. It was a reminder that beyond this peaceful home, the world was ruled by danger and power.
He did not understand why it stirred something deep inside him, but his heart fluttered with a sudden certainty. The roar was a call—quiet, yet commanding—telling him that his path would not be simple, that the life he knew was only the beginning.
Since the boy could remember, he lived in this small stone house with his uncle and aunt. Their true identities were a mystery known only to themselves, hidden from the world. The village knew nothing of their pasts, and no one suspected the secrets sealed within their quiet home.
His uncle and aunt spoke of the boy's parents as perfect and kind, but they never told the full truth. A secret lay buried in silence—his parents did not even know the boy was alive. How or why remained unsaid, guarded closely by his guardians, who refused to answer his questions. When he asked, they only exchanged heavy looks and changed the subject, their silence louder than words.
Though the boy never complained about his life with his uncle, aunt, and younger cousin who loved him like a brother, there was a quiet longing always inside him. He wondered where his real parents were—if they lived, if they searched for him, or if some cruel fate had taken them far away.
That unspoken fear sometimes weighed on his small heart, yet it gave him strength, too. His mind was sharper and calmer than boys his age, and deep inside, a steady courage stirred.
He kept these feelings hidden, unsure how to express them. But every day, he nurtured a quiet hope—that one day, the hidden truth would reveal itself, and he would uncover the secret of where he truly belonged. Until then, he waited in silent patience, ready for the challenges that fate would surely bring.
Soft footsteps approached behind the boy, followed by a playful, childish voice.
"Hey, big brother Tao… why are you rushing off like that already?"
Yunkai Tao turned to see his little cousin, about five or six years old, bounding toward him. His wild black hair stuck out in every direction, his bright eyes sparkling with mischief, and a grin teasing at the corners of his mouth.
With a calm smile, Tao replied, "The sun's already sinking low, and Brother Luo Tang woke up early again. He's going to be full of energy today, just like yesterday. So, I need to work harder to find all the medicinal plants for today's collecting."
Luo Tang scrunched up his face in mock frustration. "You always say that! But I'm just a kid—I need my sleep to grow strong."
Tao chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Sleep won't gather the herbs for us, little pest. If you want to be strong one day, you have to help."
The younger boy stuck out his tongue with a cheeky look. "I'm too small to do anything right."
Tao smirked, teasing him gently. "Small? Last time you tried to carry that big basket, you nearly tripped and spilled everything."
Luo Tang's eyes grew wide. "That was one time! And you weren't there to catch me!"
"I was there—to laugh," Tao admitted with a grin.
The two elders watched nearby with quiet smiles, their expressions calm and steady. The uncle, a tall man with a strong but kind presence, spoke evenly without favor.
"Luo Tang, teasing your cousin won't help grow the herbs, nor your strength. You both must work hard—it's the family business that keeps our home alive."
The aunt, small but sharp-eyed and steady, nodded as she adjusted the baskets she carried. "Both of you are equally important. I don't favor one over the other. You share the same bloodline now and the same duties. Everyone must carry their part."
Neither elder gave extra attention or leniency to either boy. Their care was firm but equal, expecting both boys to learn the family trade well.
Luo Tang puffed out his chest but smiled. "When I'm as talented as big brother Tao, I'll take on even more of the work."
Tao grinned. "And I'll hold you to that. But first, bring me some fresh tea while you're at it."
"Only if you stop bossing me," Luo Tang shot back with a cheeky grin.
Their laughter rang out softly under the warm sun, a small light in their simple village.
Tao glanced toward the forest and grabbed a basket. "Let's try to find the blue lotus flower today. It's rare but worth much in the market."
Luo Tang's eyes sparkled. "The blue lotus that glows under moonlight? Maybe I'll see it this time!"
"If you don't fall in the river again," Tao teased.
"I'm not clumsy like you!" Luo Tang boasted proudly.
The uncle's voice softened with a warning, "Remember, the forest holds dangers, so stick together."
The aunt handed each boy a small cloth-wrapped bundle. "Take these with you. They might help if you find anything unusual."
The four—two boys and their two guardians—set off toward the edge of the forest. The boys' chatter and laughter mingled with the sounds of nature, their daily life tied closely to the land and to the family's medicinal herb trade.