Li Yuan named them simply: Bandit.
Two men, one woman. Not the name inherent in their birth, but the names that grow from their choices.
They sat under a tree, still trembling, as if the world had shown them a mirror that they did not want to see. But Li Yuan didn't just leave. He stood in front of them, his gaze like a cold and clear water flow, but it was strong enough to crush the stone.
"Are you always like this?" Li Yuan asked.
The voice was not an accusation, not compassion. The sound is a reflection, a question that comes from something deeper - from the place that makes humans ask themselves.
The two men looked down. One of them holds the ground, like he wants to run, but his body is too honest to stand in front of Li Yuan.
The woman raised her face. His eyes were tired, but did not give up. "We ... not always like this," he whispered. "We used to be farmers. But our land was burned by nobles. We lost everything. In the end ... we became a thief to stay alive."
Li Yuan did not answer in words. He just stared.
But the gaze made the three feel like all their breaths were weighed.
The two men began to cry. They themselves don't know why. Maybe because the first time, there was someone who saw them not as a threat or rubbish, but as a human who had chosen, and could choose again.
"You guys steal," Li Yuan said slowly, "but what you need is not a treasure. What you are looking for is direction."
He stepped closer. There is no threatening aura, there is no oppressive power. Only calm that they cannot fight.
"The direction will not come from stealing."
One of them tried to open his mouth, but the words were broken before they were formed.
Li Yuan sighed. And the world is also calm.
He pulled something from his sleeve - the white seed was white. He looked down, then planted it on the ground between them.
"This is not a gift," he said. "This is a mirror. Take care. If it grows, then you have changed."
Li Yuan turned around, continuing his journey. He did not turn around, not asking whether they would follow or leave the seed.
Because he knows, the world will see.
And the world will be a witness:
Whether the three bandits continue to steal, or start planting.
It had been a month since Li Yuan left that quiet village. Each step he took was a trace of time; every breath he drew carried echoes from a world that once stood still. The road he traveled was not merely a physical path, but a long corridor of understanding that pulsed constantly in silence.
With no vehicle, no steed only his two feet and a world quietly watching him.
Today, the land began to change. The grass was no longer tall, and the wind carried the scent of humans. Li Yuan slowed his pace.
Ahead, two figures sat beneath a towering old tree, its roots jutting out from the earth like ancient hands weary from holding up the world.
One of them was an old man. At first glance, he seemed frail his hair silver-white, his skin wrinkled like autumn leaves ready to fall. Yet his posture was straight, and his eyes were bright not like a man of seventy, but like a mountain that had stood long before mankind knew time. If ordinary men lived to eighty, this man seemed to defy the fate that sets such limits.
Beside him sat a young man, somewhere between twenty and twenty-five. His face was clear, full of spirit, yet untouched by the silence of life. He looked toward Li Yuan with a gaze of curiosity, as though trying to read a story from an inaudible breath.
Li Yuan stopped three steps away from them.
"Your steps are unhurried. Have you lost your purpose, or have you come to understand it too well?" asked the old man, his voice deep and calm, like water flowing from the heart of the earth.
Li Yuan looked at them. "Purpose is not always at the end. Sometimes, it hides in every step."
The young man frowned, not fully grasping the words. But the old man nodded slowly.
"Our name is Wanderer. We walk not to seek, but to witness," the old man introduced, without giving a name.
Li Yuan offered a faint smile. "I carry no name of worth in this world. But they call me Li Yuan."
The young man studied Li Yuan's face carefully. "Your eyes… they seem to hold a season that never arrives."
Li Yuan replied gently, "Because I've learned to see not only with eyes, but with silence."
For a moment, the three of them sat in silence. The wind passed by, carrying whispers of leaves and night insects. Without command, all three sat together beneath that tree. Three humans, three paths, three stories yet unfinished.
The old man spoke, "Every meeting is a sign. The world never allows anything to happen in vain. If we've met, it means we each carry something we've yet to realize."
Li Yuan nodded. "Perhaps I do not need answers, but your presence may become a new question."
Night began to fall gently. The stars emerged one by one, like understandings that cannot be forced.
Beneath the vast sky, among the three wanderers, something stirred quietly. Not power, not dominance. But resonance.
One night became witness that even steps without a clear destination can meet at the same silent point.
And the world, though quiet, is never truly mute.