The first week of training was like a prolonged war of attrition.
Yinuo woke up punctually at five o'clock every morning, sat cross-legged on his bed for an hour, then went to school with stiff legs and a foggy head. By the third period in the afternoon, drowsiness would surge up like a tide, and he had to bite his tongue hard to stay awake. After returning home in the evening, he still had to complete his homework, usually working until eleven o'clock. His sleep time was compressed to around five hours, and the physical fatigue accumulated over the week into a continuous dull ache.
But he didn't give up.
Monday morning's meditation was just as terrible as the first day, with distracting thoughts flying around like mosquitoes. Tuesday was slightly better—he could focus continuously on his breathing for about five minutes. By Wednesday, the soreness in his lower back had lessened somewhat, and his body seemed to be adapting to this posture. On Thursday, he found he could more quickly notice when his thoughts drifted and pull his attention back. On Friday, nearly fifteen minutes of the entire meditation session were spent in a relatively quiet state.
By Saturday morning, Yinuo sat on his bed with his eyes closed and suddenly realized something: he could now clearly perceive every detail of his breathing. It wasn't deliberate attention, but rather that breathing itself had become a natural anchor point. His thoughts flowed around it, occasionally drifting away, but always being gently pulled back.
This feeling was subtle, like finding a stable fulcrum in chaos.
Sunday morning, he completed his meditation training as usual. When he stood up, the numbness in his legs had weakened considerably. He stood by the window watching the crowd of morning joggers on the street, and suddenly recalled the second step of training mentioned in the booklet: walking blindfolded.
The booklet said the second step should only begin after completing three months of the first step, but Yinuo decided to try it early. He found an old scarf, blindfolded himself in his room, and tried to walk to the door.
Darkness immediately swallowed all visual information. Yinuo reached out his hand and groped his way forward. After two steps, his knee struck the corner of the bed, and dull pain transmitted from his kneecap. He gritted his teeth and continued forward. This time his shin hit a chair leg. On the third attempt, he finally felt the doorknob.
The entire process took three minutes—normally it only required five seconds.
Yinuo removed the scarf and rubbed his aching knee. It seemed the training sequence in the booklet was reasonable. Rushing into the second step before completing the first would only be counterproductive. He folded the scarf and put it back in its place, then began preparing today's breakfast.
When Monday came and he returned to school, Yinuo discovered Chen Hao had changed his method of bullying.
During the break between classes, Chen Hao walked to Yinuo's seat and placed one hand on the desktop, his body leaning slightly forward. His two friends stood beside him, forming a closed triangle that trapped Yinuo in his seat.
"I heard you've been getting up very early lately." Chen Hao's voice carried a certain teasing tone.
Yinuo raised his head and looked at Chen Hao's face. He didn't answer.
"Every morning at five o'clock—are you going for a morning jog?" Chen Hao continued, "Or are you doing something special at home?"
Yinuo's heartbeat quickened slightly. How did Chen Hao know about him getting up early?
"My family lives in that building across from yours." Chen Hao seemed to see through Yinuo's confusion and revealed a malicious smile. "Every morning at five o'clock, your room's light turns on right on time. I'm very curious—what does a person do in their room at the crack of dawn?"
The two people beside him also laughed, their laughter full of insinuation.
Yinuo clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He remained silent, his gaze returning to the textbook spread open on his desk.
"Don't be nervous, I'm just concerned about my classmate." Chen Hao patted Yinuo's shoulder with enough force to make his body sway. "Keep working hard, Jin Yinuo."
The three of them left, and the classroom returned to its normal commotion. Yinuo looked down at the mathematical formulas in his textbook, the letters and numbers blurring together in his vision.
He had originally thought that getting up early to train was a secret matter, but he had overlooked Chen Hao's home location. The distance between the two buildings was only about thirty meters, and from Chen Hao's window, he could clearly see the light in Yinuo's room. This detail had never caught his attention before, because he had never turned on his light at five in the morning.
Yinuo took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. Chen Hao had only seen the light—he didn't know what Yinuo was doing. Even if he really was discovered practicing something strange, so what? The worst outcome was one more reason to be mocked, and he was already used to being mocked.
After school that afternoon, Yinuo didn't immediately go home. He made a detour to the small park behind the school and found a path with few people. There was a row of plane trees here, and autumn fallen leaves covered the ground, making rustling sounds when stepped on.
He took the scarf from his backpack, and after confirming no one was around, he blindfolded himself.
Darkness descended once more. Yinuo stood in place, trying to mobilize his other senses. The sound of wind blowing through leaves, the sound of car engines in the distance, the texture of fallen leaves underfoot, the faint earthy scent in the air. This information had always existed, but it had been covered by vision. Now that vision was gone, they suddenly became clear.
Yinuo lifted his foot and carefully took a step forward.
The moment his sole touched the ground, he could feel the softness of the fallen leaves and the firmness of the earth beneath. He took another step, this time slightly faster. Third step, fourth step, fifth step. He maintained a slow pace, using hearing and touch to construct a vague outline of his surroundings.
After walking about ten meters, his shoulder collided with something. A tree trunk. The rough bark scraped across his uniform, leaving a slight stinging sensation. Yinuo stopped, reached out to touch the trunk, then adjusted his direction and continued forward.
This time he walked about twenty meters before stopping, because he heard footsteps coming from ahead. He stood in place waiting. The footsteps gradually approached, then passed about three meters to his left. An adult, with steady steps, probably a passerby heading home from work.
After the footsteps receded, Yinuo removed the scarf.
He found he had already deviated from the path and was standing at the edge of the grass. If he had continued forward another five meters, he would have collided with the park's iron railing. This training was more difficult than he had imagined. Even just walking slowly in a familiar environment, losing vision caused his sense of direction to rapidly collapse.
But at least he had taken the first step.
Yinuo put away the scarf and walked back along the original route to the school gate. The sky was already beginning to darken, and street lamps lit up one after another. He walked on the road home with his backpack, replaying in his mind the process of walking blindfolded just now.
Judging the distance of sounds, changes in ground material, the direction of air flow. These details were usually automatically filtered out by the brain, but now he needed to relearn how to capture and interpret them. This process might take several months, or even longer.
Yinuo walked to the bottom of his building and looked up at the building where Chen Hao's family lived. Fifth floor, second window from the left, with dark blue curtains. He memorized this location.
Tomorrow morning, he would still get up at five to continue training. If Chen Hao wanted to see the light, let him see it. Yinuo had nothing left to lose.
He went upstairs and returned home. His parents hadn't gotten off work yet. Yinuo put down his backpack, took leftover rice from the refrigerator and heated it up, eating it with pickled vegetables. Then he sat at his desk and began doing today's homework.
The sky outside the window had completely darkened, and the city's lights flickered in the night. Yinuo finished the last physics problem and checked the time—ten-thirty at night. He put away his books, took out that booklet from under the bed, and turned to the explanation page for the first stage.
The booklet's paper gave off an old yellowish light under the lamp, the writing on it neat and archaic. Yinuo's gaze rested on that sentence: subconscious recognition of killing intent, autonomous bodily evasion.
He closed the booklet, turned off the desk lamp, and lay on the bed.
In the darkness, he closed his eyes and began focusing on his breathing. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. His thoughts flowed slowly like water, occasionally rippling, then returning to calm.