LIA-AGE 7
I woke up with a scream.
It ripped out of my throat so loudly that my parents rushed into my room in a heartbeat.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" my mom asked in Romanian, voice shaking. She hurried to my bed and grabbed my hands.
My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. I bet my mom could hear it too.
She sat on the edge of my bed, holding my hands tightly, while my dad stood in the doorway, looking worried and helpless.
"I had a dream," I said in Romanian, my voice small and panicked.
"Was it a bad dream?" my mom asked gently, still in Romanian.
I nodded, then forced myself to explain.
"In my dream I saw a girl… sitting in a dim wooden room, lit only by a lantern. She was my age. She was crying. She was whispering words in a language I've never heard before. But then, when the girl lifted her head…"
I swallowed.
"I saw myself."
My mom started patting my back gently, then kissed my forehead.
"It was just a dream," she said in Romanian. "Nothing else."
She gently pushed me back under the blanket and tucked me in.
"Now go back to sleep. I'll stay here until you fall asleep."
It was useless to protest. That was always the answer—it was just a dream. Just go back to sleep.
But I couldn't.
I didn't know what was happening. I wanted to believe my mom, to convince myself it was nothing, but for some reason, my whole body felt restless and wrong.
I didn't sleep at all that night.
AGE 9
I stopped telling my parents about the dreams. It was pointless. Every time, the answer was the same.
So I buried them deep inside. I told no one.
How could I explain that I often woke up crying for no clear reason? Or that sometimes I laughed at midnight because I felt happiness… but it didn't feel like mine?
I didn't want other kids my age to think I was strange. Or crazy.
Then one day, in school, something happened.
I froze.
A sharp sting shot through my palm, like something had slapped or cut it. Then, all at once, suffocating fear rushed over me. I felt like I was kneeling on the floor, trembling in front of an angry adult.
But I wasn't kneeling.
I was in the classroom, sitting at my desk, writing down what the teacher was putting on the whiteboard. And a second ago, I wasn't afraid at all.
It hit me. Hard.
This wasn't my emotion.
It was hers. The girl from my dream.
I didn't know what to do. Feeling everything she felt scared the hell out of me. I could go to the teacher and tell her, but what would she think?
That I was crazy?
That my parents were doing something to me?
That I needed help, or to be taken away?
I didn't want to be separated from my parents.
My breathing sped up. My chest tightened. My hands started shaking.
Was this… a panic attack?
Suddenly my teacher was beside me, her hands on my shoulders. I looked up at her with watery eyes, and saw her mouth moving—but I couldn't hear anything.
What is going on??
These aren't even my emotions. Why do I hate them so much?
The panic, the fear—it all annoyed the shit out of me, but it was impossible to focus on my anger while my body was freaking out.
The teacher took me out of the classroom and led me to the school nurse. The moment we got there, I broke down completely. Crying. Shaking. My body didn't feel like my own.
The nurse and the teacher tried to get me to drink water, but I pushed it away. My hands wouldn't stop trembling. I don't even know when the teacher left to call my parents. I only remember that, at some point, my mom and dad were in front of me, both hugging me, trying to calm me down.
After two hours, I finally calmed down.
I sat on the infirmary bed while four adults half circled me—the teacher, the nurse, my mom, my dad—looking at me with those questioning eyes.
But what could I tell them?
I didn't even fully understand what was happening myself.
I looked down at my left wrist.
There it was: a brighter, sharper golden crescent, like sunlight etched into my skin.
I'd had it since birth. When my mom first saw it, she tried everything to get rid of it, but nothing worked. So in the end, she just accepted it and called it a "beauty mark."
But what kind of "beauty mark" is a bright, sharp, golden crescent?
I might only be nine, but I'm not stupid.
I know something is wrong with me.
But I can't say anything about it.
"So? What happened?" my dad asked in Romanian.
I didn't even look up. I kept staring at my wrist as I replied in Romanian,
"I don't know."
I heard all four of them inhale and exhale at the same time.
I looked up, annoyed.
"I really don't know, okay?!" I snapped in Romanian as I stood up. "I had a panic attack. Or anxiety. I don't know!!!"
I stormed out.
I didn't even bother to take my schoolbag. I just walked out of the building and went straight to my dad's car. I waited there in silence for my parents to come out and take me home.
I just wanted my room.
And for everyone to leave me alone.
AGE 11
The dreams changed.
The wooden room was clearer now—the lantern, the paper windows, the low bed.
I started to understand that the girl in my dreams didn't live in my world. Her room, her clothes, her surroundings… everything felt old. Ancient.
One night, in my dream, the girl stepped closer to me.
I saw her more clearly than ever.
She looked exactly like me.
This time, I heard her voice clearly.
"Wǒ… jiào… Bǎo Jī."
My name… is Bao Ji.
She spoke Chinese.
And the shocking part?
I understood her.
"Lia," I whispered back in my dream, replying in Chinese without even thinking. "My name is Lia."
Bao Ji repeated my name carefully, with gentle wonder.
"Li-ya."
I smiled.
For the first time, I wasn't afraid.
I woke up in an unusually good mood.
After that panic attack when I was nine, my parents took me to a psychologist. She prescribed medication for my panic attacks and anxiety.
Did it work?
Fuck no.
After a year, I stopped taking them. My parents realized the meds were pointless, so they didn't force me.
After that, I did my best to show them I could "manage" without pills.
It's obviously a lie.
But they don't know that.
AGE 14
Everything upgraded.
At this point, I started speaking Chinese fluently.
People kept asking how I learned it.
"I taught myself online," I would lie, over and over.
Do they believe it?
I think so.
"I wish I could learn Chinese like you," Elena, my best friend, said in Romanian one afternoon. "I'm really jealous, you know? I can barely focus in school."
Every time we met, she said the same thing. Sometimes I wished I had an actual superpower just to make her shut up.
"I can teach you, if you want," I replied in Romanian as we sat in the park on a blanket. The sun was warm, and people were passing by, laughing, talking, living their normal lives.
Even though Elena is my best friend, I still hadn't told her about my dreams. Or about Bao Ji. Or about how I really know Chinese.
Because besides me being able to speak Chinese now, Bao Ji knows English and Romanian too.
I've always loved English, so my parents sent me to private lessons. I can't say I'm completely fluent, but I'm good. Still, the weirdest part is this:
Me and Bao Ji don't only communicate in dreams anymore.
If my emotions spike—if I get angry, scared, or overwhelmed—I can hear her voice. Clear as day in my head. Her mellow tone calms me down.
And when her emotions rise, I can talk to her too. I'm not as good at soothing people as she is, but I try.
I learned she's from ancient China. From the Bao clan. Her father is a low-ranked official.
She lives in a world of strict rules and sharp eyes.
Of course, I talked about my world too. Smartphones, the internet, movies, cars, planes. She finds it strange—honestly, I don't blame her. I find her world strange too.
After one conversation, I tried to search online about her era. But I couldn't find much yet. My research skills suck. And I don't know her specific year, dynasty, or city yet. I plan to wait until she gives me more detail.
At some point, Elena nudged me with her elbow.
"Look at that guy," she said in Romanian.
"Where?" I asked, also in Romanian.
"There." She pointed across the street, towards a small shop.
There was a boy standing there. Tall, casual clothes, brown hair. Pretty handsome.
"He keeps looking this way," Elena said with a mischievous smile.
"He probably looks at you," I fired back while we both shamelessly stared at him. When he glanced our way, we started giggling and looked at each other like idiots.
"You can have him, girl. I'll take his friend. The blond one," Elena said in Romanian.
I laughed and pushed her playfully, my cheeks warming.
Then I froze.
"I feel so alone," Bao Ji's voice whispered in Chinese inside my head.
Her tone was soft, but I could hear the little crack in it.
…Is she crying?
"What happened?" I asked in Chinese, my smile fading.
Silence.
A cold rush of fear shot through me from nowhere.
She's afraid.
Afraid of what??
"What's happening?" I asked again, this time more urgently, in Chinese. Panic crept into my voice.
"Lia! Are you okay?" Elena asked in Romanian.
I forced a smile and turned to her. "I'm fine," I said in Romanian.
I definitely didn't sound convincing, because she frowned and said, "How can you be okay when you're pale as a white wall?"
I wished she would just shut up so I could focus.
"Bao Ji! Are you okay? Reply, please!" I called in Chinese, both out loud and in my mind.
Suddenly, my own panic rose. This time, it was my emotion.
And I knew that when my emotions spiked, she could feel them too. So I knew she could hear me.
So why wasn't she answering?
"It's so dark in here…" Bao Ji finally whispered in Chinese.
"Dark where? Where are you?" I asked, still in Chinese. My chest felt tight. I wanted to help her more than anything. But here I was—on the other side of the world, and around three thousand years away.
"Lia, you're scaring me," Elena said in Romanian.
"I told you, I'm fine!" I snapped back in Romanian, anger slipping into my tone. "What don't you understand?"
I wasn't really angry at her. I was scared. The feelings pouring from Bao Ji were scaring me. Worrying me. Breaking me.
Was she avoiding me? Why?
I could still feel that she was alive. That she was okay physically. But emotionally, she felt like she was crying her eyes out in the dark.
Sometimes, I see images along with her emotions. Even when I'm awake. But this time?
Nothing. No images. No sounds. Only darkness and fear.
My own panic spiked. Combined with hers, it felt like drowning from the inside.
My vision blurred. My breathing turned shallow. My hands started shaking.
Another panic attack.
"Tell me she's okay!" I said out loud in Chinese, not even realizing I'd done so.
Someone was shaking me. I looked up and saw Elena's face, blurred with worry. Her mouth was moving but again—I couldn't hear anything.
She reached for her phone, but I grabbed her wrist.
"No," I muttered in Romanian, barely audible. "Just take me somewhere… where it's just the two of us."
My voice was trembling. I could feel myself already crashing.
People were staring. Some slowed down, whispering to each other as they passed by. Great. Just what I needed—an audience.
Elena helped me to my feet and guided me away, one arm around me.
"Bao Ji… please. Tell me you're there," I said in Chinese, telepathically.
Nothing.
Silence.
Time blurred. I don't know how long it took before I realized we were alone in a room. I glanced at the door, then at Elena.
"The door is locked, if that's what you're wondering," Elena said in Romanian gently.
That was all I needed to hear.
I fell onto my knees and crashed completely.
Crying, hyperventilating even worse than on the street. My whole body shook. I couldn't hold it back anymore.
"I can't hear her…" I screamed in Romanian, my voice raw. Tears streamed down my face.
I don't know if Elena said anything. All I felt was her arms wrapping around me, holding me tight. She stroked my back slowly, gently.
My first instinct was to push her away.
But then I clung to her instead, fists gripping her arms, my face buried against her shoulder and neck as I sobbed.
"I can't hear her," I kept repeating, in Romanian, in English, in Chinese—every language I knew, as if one of them might make a difference.
"Hey."
The voice was faint, but clear.
"I'm not dead. Yet," Bao Ji said.
My crying stopped instantly. My heart jumped.
I pushed Elena away a little so I could sit properly and I let out a long, shaky breath.
"Don't you ever do that again," I snapped in Chinese to Bao Ji. "Your feelings panicked the shit out of me."
She giggled softly at my tone.
I shook my head and replied telepathically, also in Chinese, "It's not funny. Our sad feelings combined is the worst feeling ever. I've never felt like this in my entire life."
"I'm sorry," Bao Ji whispered back in Chinese.
"What's happening? What's wrong?" I asked, still worried.
"My father locked me up," she said quietly. "Because of something I didn't do."
She paused, then continued, "I think my cousin, Bao Si, lied about something. Maybe she broke the little gold sculpture and blamed me. But I don't think that's possible. We're close as sisters. She would never do that to me."
I thought for a moment, then answered, "Maybe… you don't know your cousin as well as you think."
Bao Ji went silent.
Minutes passed. The only thing she said eventually was:
"I'm okay. Don't worry about me. Go have fun with your friend. When I felt your happiness earlier… it made my day."
Her words hurt and comforted me at the same time.
"What the hell just happened?" Elena finally asked, sitting on the floor beside me.
The day I'd feared the most had finally come.
The day I couldn't hide behind "it's just anxiety" anymore.
"I—" I started, but Elena cut me off.
"And don't you dare lie to me," she said firmly.
I looked at her, completely unsure what to say.
We stared at each other for a long moment.
"Okay, then I'm calling your parents," Elena said, reaching for her phone.
I grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down beside me.
"Don't."
"Why?" she demanded.
"Who knows what they'll do if they see I still have panic attacks," I muttered. "They'll drag me back to the psychologist, force more meds… I don't want that."
Elena's brows furrowed.
"Even if I tell you," I said quietly, "you won't believe me."
"Try me," she said.
"I—" The words stuck in my throat. I was so annoyed by my own fear that I stood up and blurted out, "You won't believe me. You'll think I'm crazy and you'll stop being my friend."
"We are friends, Lia!" Elena raised her voice a bit. "No matter what, you'll always be my best friend."
I knew she was worried. I could see it. Maybe if I were in her place, I'd also want answers. But I have trust issues. With everyone. Even myself.
"You don't want to say it? Fine. Then get the fuck out," Elena said in Romanian, hurt and angry.
I stared at her, shocked.
"Leave!" she snapped.
Anger rushed up in me, and the words flew out before I could stop them.
"What do you want to hear, huh? That I'm somehow connected to a girl from ancient China, from like three thousand years ago? That at first I thought they were just dreams, but now I know Chinese? I didn't learn it, by the way. One day I just understood what she was saying. That I can feel her emotions, and she can feel mine? That every time our emotions get intense, we can talk to each other? And that as time passes, it's getting more real, not less? Is that what you want to hear? Because if yes—there you go. I said it. It's the truth."
I laughed bitterly, tears still clinging to my lashes.
"My parents took me to a fucking psychologist. Gave me meds, thinking I'm going crazy. Do you think it helped?" I snorted. "No. It didn't. When I stopped taking them, I had to pretend I was fine, that it's 'just anxiety' and 'just panic attacks,' so they'd think I'm normal."
I lifted my left wrist, showing her the bright golden crescent.
"And this? I was born with it. My parents tried every possible and impossible way to get rid of it. It's still here. So my mom calls it a 'beauty mark.'"
I let my hand fall.
"There. I said it. If you think I'm crazy, go ahead. Laugh. Make fun. I don't care."
Elena just stared at me, speechless.
Inside my head, I felt Bao Ji's presence again, gentle and soft.
"It's okay, Lia. Calm down," she said in Chinese. "Anger is not the solution."
I started doing the breathing exercises I'd learned, trying to calm down.
"There. I'm calm," I muttered to Bao Ji in Chinese as I picked up my bag.
"No, you're not," she replied. "You can't lie to me. Remember?"
I took a few steps toward the door, ready to leave, when Elena's voice stopped me.
"Wait."
I didn't turn around. I just stood there, silently waiting to hear what she would say.
"Yes, it sounds crazy and unreal," Elena said in Romanian, her tone much softer now. "But as your friend, I would never think you're crazy. I'll try to understand you. If one day I see you're really losing screws up there, then maybe I'd take action. Until then—I'm here."
"You're lucky to have a friend like her," Bao Ji said in Chinese. "If I told anyone here, they'd think I'm crazy. Or possessed."
Guilt poked at my chest.
I might have someone who's willing to understand me and listen to me. But Bao Ji… she has no one. Not even her cousin, who might be a snake.
"Don't feel bad about me," Bao Ji added gently. "I still have you."
Her words brought a small smile to my face.
"Now go talk to your friend. Don't be stubborn," she added.
I turned around to face Elena.
"You really believe I'm not crazy?" I asked in Romanian.
She smiled, even with tears in her eyes.
"We're friends, Lia. I'll be here for you. I'll be your partner in crime," Elena said.
I dropped my bag on the floor and walked straight into her arms.
She hugged me tightly, and for the first time in a long time…
I didn't feel completely alone.