"Where… am I?" A handsome young man murmured, his voice adrift amidst a sea of blooming flowers, beneath skies where clouds hung like freshly fallen snow.
As the question lingered, a figure emerged—a man whose chiseled features radiated raw masculinity, his presence both commanding and tender. "You're in my heart, Krata," he answered, his voice a velvet caress.
Krata. Yes… he remembered that name. It was his name. Why had he forgotten? How could he forget himself? Krata's confusion swirled like storm clouds, until he turned—and froze. The man before him was the spitting image of Alex, his most loathed schoolmate.
"Alex? Why are you here? Weren't you sick yesterday?" Krata stammered, disbelief sharpening his tone.
The man smiled softly, a warmth in his eyes that Alex had never once shown. "Alex? I'm sorry, my love… I'm not Alex. Don't you remember? I'm Zhuangzi—the other half of your soul."
Krata's breath hitched. The voice was unfamiliar, too gentle, too kind—utterly foreign to the Alex he knew. Yet Zhuangzi's face… it wasn't just similar. It was Alex. Every angle, every curve—identical.
Before Krata could demand answers, a thunderous shout shattered the dream.
"Yon! Still asleep?! Get up! It's 7 a.m. You'll be late for school! Breakfast's ready! Move it!" His mother's voice roared through the door, yanking him violently back to reality.
Yon blinked groggily at the ceiling. Yon? Right… that's me. But then… who the hell is Krata? He groaned, the question dissolving into the fog of sleep as he rolled over, burying his face in the pillow.
"YOOOOONNNN! WAKE. UP. NOW!"
—
After showering, eating breakfast, and organizing his books, Yon left for school. At 17, he was still a junior—two years left until graduation—but today, the weight of his dream clung to him like a shadow.
At school, he dropped his bag and scanned the hallway, searching for a familiar face. But the one he sought was nowhere to be seen.
"What's wrong, Yon? Looking for Alex?" Alice appeared beside him, her voice laced with playful mockery.
"No, Al. Just… he hasn't been here all week. Is he still sick? Do you know what's wrong with him?" Yon's tone feigned indifference, but the crease in his brow betrayed him.
Alice noticed. She nudged him, her smile sly. "No idea. But if you're that worried, I've got his address. Want to check on him?" She knew, of course—she just didn't want to say.
"Let's go together after school," Yon said quickly.
"Sorry, can't. Family stuff. I'll text you the address—it's not far. Anyway, gotta run!" She waved, already retreating. The lie slipped too smoothly.
"…Sure." Yon clenched his jaw. He didn't want to go. But the dream—Krata, the name, the haunting face of "Zhuangzi" gnawed at him. It felt too real to ignore.
Minutes later, the teacher strode in, and the morning bled into lectures. Yet Yon's thoughts drifted, tethered to a boy named Alex… and the ghost of a life he couldn't remember.
In class, Yon's mind was a tempest. Zhuangzi—Zhuangzi, Zhuangzi, Zhuangzi—the name coiled around his thoughts like a mantra. The dream clung to him, vivid and unyielding.
Why can't I forget his face? That voice… so gentle, so unlike Alex…
"Yon??? Yon?? YON???"
He didn't hear the teacher's calls. Didn't notice the classroom's stifled giggles. All he saw was Zhuangzi's phantom smile, the way his eyes had softened when he'd whispered, "the other half of your soul."
"YON!!!"
"Y-yes?!" He jolted upright, his chair screeching. The class erupted into laughter. The teacher's glare was ice. "Out. Now."
Out. Yon, the diligent honor student, the boy who'd never missed a deadline, exiled. His face burned as he slung his bag over his shoulder and fled to the library. Not to study but to sleep. To chase the ghost in his dreams.
In the library, he slumped into a corner, eyelids heavy. The world dissolved.
"Zhuangzi? Where are you?" Yon's voice echoed across the flower-strewn field, beneath a sky now barren of its snow-white clouds. No answer. He ran, heart hammering, through the endless blooms. "ZHUANGZI!"
Silence.
A sob tore from his throat. Why does this hurt so much? He'd never met this man, yet losing him felt like losing his own pulse.
Then—the sky blinked.
Light snuffed out. Darkness swallowed the field, thick and suffocating. Yon screamed—
"Whoa—!" He lurched awake, drenched in cold sweat. The library clock glared: 17:00. Impossible. He'd only closed his eyes at 09:00.
Trembling, he checked his phone. A message from Alice: *Alex's address*.
No hesitation now. Yon grabbed his bag, revved his motorcycle, and sped into the dusk. To find Alex. To find *Zhuangzi*. To unravel the truth bleeding between dreams and reality.