One year ago.
Jin Yue stepped into the bustling heart of the city for the first time.
The transition was violent.
It was not gradual, not something he could ease into. One moment there had been open road and sky, the familiar rhythm of his footsteps and the quiet patience of distance. The next, the world crashed inward.
Voices slammed into him in overlapping waves...laughter, bargaining, arguments, greetings, curses...none of them distinct long enough to follow. Colors pressed in from every direction, relentless and bright: bolts of dyed fabric strung like flags, lacquered signs painted in bold strokes, banners snapping overhead in the wind. Nothing stayed still. Everything demanded to be seen.
Scents tangled thickly in the air. Hot oil hissed and popped from unseen pans. Incense smoke curled from censers and doorways, sweet and sharp all at once. Damp wood, metal, sweat, and unfamiliar spices layered over one another until Jin Yue could no longer tell where one ended and another began. Some smells stung his nose. Others lingered on his tongue long after he breathed out.
Too loud.Too bright.Too fast.
The city did not pause for him.
People surged past without slowing, bodies brushing close enough that he could feel the heat of them through his clothes. Shoulders knocked lightly into his arms. An elbow grazed his ribs. No one apologized. No one even noticed. The current carried them all forward, and he was simply another stone in its path.
Merchants shouted prices and promises over one another, their voices trained to carry...strong, practiced calls that reminded him of fishermen hailing from opposite riverbanks, competing not with anger but endurance. Somewhere nearby, someone struck metal against metal. Somewhere else, a bell rang. Somewhere else still, something shattered and laughter followed.
Children darted between legs, fearless and fast, laughing as they chased one another through gaps Jin Yue hadn't even seen. They collided, rebounded, vanished again like schools of fish slipping through reeds, leaving only noise and motion behind.
Compared to the forests and rivers he had lived beside for most of his life, the city felt like standing in the middle of an ocean storm.
One that did not care whether he could swim.
Jin Yue stopped just inside the market's edge, breath shallow.
For a moment, he simply stood there while the world flowed around him.
His fingers tightened around the familiar length of his fishing rod.
The smooth wood pressed reassuringly into his palm, worn perfectly to the shape of his grip. The surface held countless small imperfections...scratches, dents, places where rope had rubbed it thin...but every one of them was known to him. He focused on that sensation, grounding himself in it the way he always did when the world grew too large.
Just get through the market.Find a quiet place.Breathe.
He let the thought repeat until his chest loosened slightly.
Lowering his head, Jin Yue began walking again, weaving awkwardly through the flow of bodies. His steps were careful, measured, placed with the same attention he used when crossing slick stones beside a river. Each movement was deliberate, controlled, as though the ground beneath him might shift if he moved too quickly.
He kept his eyes low, tracking gaps instead of faces, following the flow rather than fighting it.
Then...
"Young man! You there!"
The voice cut cleanly through the noise.
Jin Yue flinched before he could stop himself and looked up.
A merchant stood behind a cluttered wooden stall piled high with trinkets...polished stones, cracked talismans, bits of metal, carved bone, old tools whose original purpose had long since been forgotten. The stall itself looked hastily assembled, boards uneven, rope tied where nails should have been. Yet the items upon it were arranged with casual familiarity, as though the man knew exactly where everything belonged.
The merchant's robe was rumpled, sleeves rolled up past his elbows. His face was sun-lined and expressive, the kind shaped by years outdoors and long conversations.
His voice was loud, but not sharp.
It carried the rough friendliness of someone accustomed to calling across distances...to fishermen from one riverbank to another, to porters unloading boats, to passersby who needed convincing rather than coercion.
"You!" The seller pointed directly at Jin Yue's fishing rod. "You fish, don't you? You'll want to see this."
Normally, Jin Yue would have kept walking.
Normally, he avoided attention the way animals avoided open ground...by instinct, by habit, by quiet necessity.
But something on the table flickered.
Soft.Blue.Like moonlight reflected on slow-moving water.
His steps slowed without conscious decision, as though the air itself had thickened around him.
"That caught your eye, huh?" the seller said immediately, grin widening as though he had been waiting for exactly that reaction. "Good taste. Not many people stop for that one."
Jin Yue approached the stall cautiously, stopping just short of touching distance.
The item was small... a smooth stone, no larger than a plum. Its surface was cool and polished, shaped as though by years of patient water rather than tools. Faint spiral patterns had been carved into it, so shallow they nearly vanished unless the light struck at the right angle.
Beneath the surface, a soft glow pulsed.
Not bright.Not flashy.
It breathed.
"…What is this?" Jin Yue asked quietly.
The merchant's demeanor shifted at once. His voice lowered as he leaned forward...not conspiratorially, not intimately, but with the seriousness of someone sharing an old truth that deserved respect.
"A Flowstone," he said. "Rare. Found only in rivers that once touched the sky."
Jin Yue blinked.
"…Touched the sky?"
"That's what the old fishermen say," the merchant chuckled, straightening again. "They claim some rivers once flowed so high, so pure, they brushed the heavens themselves. Stones like this absorb the river's memory... calm, flow, rhythm."
He tapped the stone gently with one finger.
"Folks say they steady your hands. Improve your catch. Help you move with the water instead of against it."
Then he paused, eyes flicking briefly to the fishing rod at Jin Yue's side.
"…Or strengthen the tool you bind them to."
Something tightened in Jin Yue's chest.
Not pain.
Recognition.
A faint tingle spread through him, subtle but undeniable, as though something deep inside him had stirred in response to the stone's glow. His breathing slowed without his permission, settling into an easy rhythm that matched the soft pulse beneath the stone's surface.
His hand hovered over the Flowstone.
"…It feels familiar," he murmured.
"Ha!" The merchant laughed, clearly delighted. "Then it's meant for you. You won't find another like it in the whole market."
He nudged the stone slightly closer.
"Bind it to your rod with thread or spirit cord. Helps the tool channel energy better. Even a simple wooden one."
Jin Yue looked down at his fishing rod.
At the scratches along its length.The faded marks left by rope and line.The countless hours it had rested against his shoulder or across his knees.
"…Channel… energy?" he echoed softly.
The merchant shrugged. "That's what wandering cultivators say. I just sell the thing."
But Jin Yue wasn't thinking about cultivation.
He was thinking about the river from his childhood.
The sound of water sliding over stones at dusk.The quiet steadiness of the current.The way the world felt smaller and safer beside it.
The Flowstone's glow felt like that.
Quiet.Steady.Safe.
A place he missed more than he allowed himself to admit.
"…I'll take it," he said.
The words left him without hesitation.
The merchant blinked, surprised by the sudden decisiveness, then broke into a broad smile.
"Good choice, fisherman," he said as he wrapped the stone in cloth. "Tie it tight. And don't drop it in the water unless you want the fish laughing at you."
Jin Yue accepted the bundle with both hands and nodded once.
He didn't know why.
He couldn't explain it.
But something inside him was certain.
This stone would matter.
As he walked away from the stall, Flowstone secured carefully in cloth, the market's noise seemed to recede slightly, as though a thin layer had been placed between him and the chaos.
His fishing rod shifted against his back.
And for just a moment...
It hummed.
Ever so faintly.
As if recognizing a missing piece being returned.