When Jet had reached the village, the sky had already turned into a mix of indigo and orange. He hasn't asked for directions from the online maps of villagers, it was like his hands knew the way.
He soon parked his car on the uneven gravel at the bottom of the hill. Instead of going to the entrance we went to a place where he remembered the best—the shortcut in his dream.
"Don't fail me," Jet muttered as he went to the unmade path.
He walked through a few bamboos, before reaching the waterfall. It almost still looks the same although centuries have passed, he turned his head up where the sun shined down onto a pavilion.
The exact one as he remembered—every arch, every curve, every splinter from all the time he spent there with Han.
But something—or someone—seemed to be pulling him forward. Jet took a steadying breath, summoning the courage to continue up the path.
His shoes made soft taps against the cement, the sound breaking the stillness of the air. The man, who had been lost in his book, finally looked up, his gaze locking on Jet. The scent of pheromones hit him before anything else.
"Hey," Jet called out awkwardly, giving a hesitant wave. "Didn't expect anyone here."
"Evening," the man replied coolly, his voice calm.
Jet sat across from the stranger, exchanging a brief, silent glance before turning his attention to the forest. The quiet scenery matched the one from his dreams, the sense of familiarity unsettling yet soothing at the same time.
The silence stretched but was comfortable, not awkward. Jet glanced back at the stranger. He appeared fairer than Jet, with glasses similar to his own. Despite his composed demeanor, the man gave off the vibe of someone who preferred solitude.
The stranger finally broke the silence, lifting his eyes from his book. "Neither did I, but it is a public place, after all."
Jet chuckled softly. "What brings you here on a weekday evening?" he asked, trying to ease the tension. "Usually, people are working, but honestly, I don't know why I'm here either."
The stranger hesitated before speaking, his voice low. "There was a pull that brought me here…" They spoke at the same time, both surprised by the unspoken connection.
Jet laughed, shaking his head. "I guess we found something in common." He held out his hand. "Name's Jet Lev."
The man paused for a moment, studying Jet before responding. "Yau Han."
Jet froze for a moment, a familiar feeling stirring deep inside him. 'Han?' His thoughts scrambled, but he shook it off quickly. 'There are thousands of people named Han. Don't get your hopes up.'
"Is something wrong?" Han asked, noticing the shift in Jet's expression.
Jet blinked, quickly masking his confusion with a smile. "No, it's nothing. Yau Han's a nice name, though."
Han's eyes widened slightly behind his glasses, his calm demeanor shifting just enough to show surprise. "You don't recognize me?"
Jet frowned, his mind racing as he tried to piece it together. "What do you mean? We've just met."
Han shook his head slowly, his gaze steady and intense. "It's more complicated than you think."
Jet tilted his head, a little lost. "Should I know you from somewhere?"
Han paused, a faint, almost reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "It's better if you don't."
The silence lingered, and Jet found himself wanting to ask more questions, yet something held him back.
"Well…" The stranger glanced around, searching for his words. "I feel like I've heard the name 'Jet Lev' before, but I'm not sure where."
Jet nodded, understanding. "If you ever remember, I'd be curious to know."
As the sun began to set, dipping lower behind the mountains, the stranger decided to head down first. Jet followed closely, taking the shortcut behind him. As they stood up, Jet immediately noticed the height difference—the man was noticeably taller.
"It was nice meeting you," the stranger said, handing Jet a piece of paper. "Hope to see you around sometime?"
Jet thanked him, a little surprised as he glanced down at the note—it was a phone number. When he looked up, the stranger was already getting into a car, driving away.
—
Back in his room, Jet lay on his bed, staring at the paper in his hand.
'That stranger…' Jet thought, 'I never even called him by his name. It doesn't seem right—he's not Han.'
He sighed, turning the paper over and over in his hands. He repeated the man's words in his head: "It's better if you don't."
'Why should I not know you? Are you secretly a criminal or something?' he joked to himself, trying to shake the odd feeling lingering in his chest.
Jet pulled out his phone, typing "Yau Han" into the search bar. He didn't expect much—a stray result, perhaps—but as soon as he pressed enter, his screen flooded with results. Articles, images, fan pages, even interviews—all about someone named Yau Han.
He frowned, scrolling through the seemingly endless links, his confusion growing with every swipe. As his eyes landed on one of the photos, he froze. That face, those sharp features…
Jet leaned in closer, his brow furrowing. "No way," he whispered under his breath.
The information he read felt like a puzzle piece clicking into place. Yau Han was a male Alpha, 23 years old—exactly Jet's age. Born into an ordinary family, he possessed rare Alpha traits, shared by only 20% of the population. Han's acting career had started when he was just 17, his raw talent earning him a debut role that skyrocketed his career. Since then, he had become a household name, starring in films that captivated audiences around the world.
Jet sat back in his chair, stunned. He recognized some of the movies listed—he'd even watched them himself. Yet he hadn't made the connection earlier. How had he been so oblivious?
His fingers hovered over the photos as he scrolled through them. Each one showcased Han's refined features and composed demeanor. Even in casual shots, there was a quiet intensity about him, a reserved air that seemed to draw people in.
And yet, as Jet stared at the polished, almost unreachable persona on his screen, he couldn't reconcile it with the man he'd met on the hill. That man had been grounded, approachable—a quiet presence who didn't seem to carry the weight of global fame on his shoulders.
Jet leaned back, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the ceiling. "He's a huge star," he murmured, the words feeling almost unreal. "And I didn't even recognize him."
The thought made him cringe slightly, but more than that, it left him with an odd sense of unease. Han's presence earlier had felt… familiar. His calm voice, the way he spoke Jet's name—it wasn't like meeting a stranger. There was something deeper, something Jet couldn't quite place.
He shook his head, a soft laugh escaping his lips. "Maybe I'm overthinking it," he said to himself. But the feeling lingered, a quiet whisper in the back of his mind as he lay down, phone still clutched in his hand.
As the city quieted around him, Jet's thoughts drifted back to that encounter—the stranger's faint scent, his measured words, the way his name rolled off Han's tongue like a memory instead of a meeting.
The glow of his phone dimmed as Jet's eyes fluttered shut. Even as sleep claimed him, the question remained, heavy and unanswered: Who really was Yau Han?