Warmth.
Darkness.
The steady beat of a heart.
Li Fan drifted in and out of sleep, wrapped in his mother's arms. Days passed in a haze of blurred shapes and soft sounds. As a newborn, time felt stretched and slow—yet his mind, an adult's mind trapped in an infant body, remained painfully awake.
He couldn't speak.
Couldn't walk.
Could barely move his limbs.
But he could hear.
And gradually, he could learn.
The language around him was strange at first—soft consonants, flowing vowels—but with each passing day, it became a little clearer, like a radio tuning toward the right frequency.
Sometimes he cried from hunger, sometimes from frustration—but his mother always came.
His father's voice—deep and steady—became familiar too. He often spoke near the wooden cradle, sighing heavily as he worked with tools and ropes.
Their home was simple.
A rough wooden hut.
Roof patched with straw.
The smell of soil on his father's clothes.
The scent of smoke from the cooking fire.
A primitive world… yet peaceful.
One morning, as a faint light filtered through the cracks in the wall, his father stepped into the room. Li Fan opened his cloudy eyes and saw only a large gray shape kneeling beside him.
The man exhaled deeply.
Then he spoke softly, voice trembling with pride.
"Li Fan… my son. Our Li Fan."
Li Fan's tiny body froze.
…What?
He had expected a new name.
A different life.
A new identity.
But Li Fan—
his exact name from Earth—
slid into his newborn ears like a thunderbolt.
His mother chuckled gently.
"Li Fan… it sounds auspicious, doesn't it? Simple, clean, but strong."
The father nodded.
"A fitting name. One day, he'll grow into a good man."
Their voices were warm.
Filled with hope.
But inside the baby's mind—
A storm raged.
My name… is the same.
Why? Coincidence? Fate? Some cosmic joke?
Or… am I in a world connected to Earth in ways I don't understand?
He wanted to ask a thousand questions, but all that left his mouth was a soft "mnn…"
The mother laughed.
"Aiyo, look! He likes the name!"
The father's rough finger brushed Li Fan's tiny hand again.
"Grow well, Li Fan. You will be the pillar of our family."
Li Fan… again. Twice in one existence.
For the first time since awakening in this world, fear crept up his tiny spine.
I thought I was in some primitive ancient era. But if my name is the same… then this world might not be simple.
His breathing quickened.
The familiar panic surged.
He still couldn't see.
Everything remained a blur.
Shapes. Shadows. Light.
I'm still blind… or am I?
He tried to calm himself.
No… scientifically, newborns see only black and white. Details will sharpen slowly. Color will come later.
He clung to that logic like a lifeline.
If this world followed normal biology, there was still hope.
Three Months Later
Time passed.
Li Fan's vision sharpened bit by bit.
He could now distinguish outlines—
the shape of his mother's face,
the broad frame of his father,
the wooden beams overhead.
Still colorless… but no longer terrifying.
His father often carried him outside into the sunlight.
He saw the sky—gray and vast.
Mountains like dark giants sleeping in the distance.
Fields of crops swaying in the breeze.
Definitely primitive… but not the same as Earth. The mountains aren't shaped the same. The plants are unfamiliar. The air feels… strangely dense.
Something inside him whispered:
This place holds mysteries.
Six Months Later
Li Fan could now sit up with help. His vision had grown clearer—edges sharper, shapes more precise. One morning, he blinked at the sunlight streaming through the doorway and—
A faint shade of red entered his world.
Color.
Just a flicker.
But enough to make his heart race.
Not blind… my sight is returning.
A weight lifted off his chest.
His mother noticed his alert gaze and laughed.
"Fan'er is so clever! Look at his eyes—always observing!"
The father agreed.
"He's too quiet… too focused. Not like other babies. Almost as if he's thinking."
He was thinking.
Every day, he analyzed his surroundings.
The layout of the house.
The tools used by farmers.
The food they ate.
The dialect they spoke.
The strange density of the air.
The faint energy he sometimes felt when his father chopped wood.
A faint warmth…
like the air pulsed slightly with unseen force.
Something foreign.
Something impossible.
What is this place… really?
He didn't know yet.
But he felt it.
This world was not ordinary.
And neither was his second life.