Wei froze, still clutching the sharp jade shard. The man, no, the demon, whatever he was, had collapsed into a heap on the cold temple floor. His tall frame seemed smaller now, his dark aura gone. In the dim light, he looked just like a person.
His lashes fluttered. His eyes opened slowly.
"Who am I?" His voice cracked, deep yet unsteady, like someone waking from a fever dream.
Wei's mind spun.
Tell him the truth? That he'd burst out of glowing jade, roared like a storm, and nearly scared her into cardiac arrest? And then what—he kills her? No way.
Her throat went dry. The words tumbled out before she could stop them:
"You're my boyfriend. Don't you remember?"
Her pulse hammered in her ears. She could hear the wind pushing through the temple's broken roof. The man blinked, his gaze searching her face as though he were grasping for something familiar.
"Boy… friend?" he echoed slowly. "Then… I belong to you?"
Wei forced a smile that felt like it might crack.
"You do. You just hit your head, that's why you can't remember right now. But don't worry." She tried to sound steady, though her palms were sweating. "Your memories will come back. It's temporary amnesia. Happens all the time."
"All the time?" His brow furrowed, as if weighing her words.
Wei nodded too quickly.
"Totally normal. Like a nap for the brain."
For a moment she thought he'd see right through her flimsy story. But instead, his brows softened, the hard edge of confusion melting into something almost childlike.
"Come on, let's go back now, Yan," she added quickly, picking the first name that came to mind from the fragments she'd heard.
He tested it under his breath.
"Yan… My name is Yan?" A faint, tired smile tugged at his lips. "I like it."
For the first time since she'd met him, his sharp aura softened. Vulnerability clung to him, and Wei felt an unexpected pang of guilt. What had she just done?
She shoved it aside and held out her hand.
"Come on. Let's get you out of here before someone finds us."
Yan looked at her hand, hesitated, then took it. His grip was warm. Wei helped him up, realizing just how tall he was when he towered over her in the flickering temple shadows. He swayed, and she steadied him, muttering under her breath,
"Great. Now I have a giant amnesiac boyfriend. Just my luck."
The silence that followed pressed into Wei's ears. Only the faint hum of the broken jade shard on the floor remained, its glow fading but not gone. Yan swayed beside her, his fingers tightening briefly around hers.
Wei glanced at the shattered pedestal, then at the glowing shard nearest her shoe. The urge to kick it far away nagged at her, but something deep inside warned her not to touch it again.
What the hell did I just break?
"Let's go," she whispered, tugging at Yan's sleeve.
He moved obediently, still leaning on her for balance. Outside, the city night spread before them. The temple walls loomed in the distance. Lanterns flickered along the narrow street. Cars hummed in the far-off avenues, but here, in the in-between, the quiet felt heavy.
Yan stared at the road, then at the bicycle locked nearby. His brows knit together.
"What… is that metal beast?"
Wei blinked, then nearly laughed.
"Beast? That's my bike." She unlocked it and wheeled it forward. "You know what a bike is, right?"
His expression was pure blank confusion.
"Oh god, you don't."
"I will ride it into battle," he said gravely, as if announcing a strategy.
Wei pinched the bridge of her nose.
"No battles. No warriors. Just sit on the back. Quietly."
It took a lot of coaxing and more than a few muttered curses, but eventually she got him perched stiffly on the back rack. His long legs stuck out awkwardly, and when she pushed off, the whole bike wobbled dangerously.
Yan clutched her shoulders like a man clinging to life.
"This contraption moves without a horse!"
"That's the point!" Wei hissed, pedaling harder to stabilize.
Through the narrow lantern-lit alleyways, she pedaled them home, praying none of her neighbors peeked out. The sight alone- a flustered barista hauling home a dazed, gorgeous man clinging to her back would fuel gossip for months. Her chest tightened at the thought.
What the hell am I doing?
But when she glanced back, Yan's expression was different now- still wary, still confused, but softer. He was looking at her like she was the only tether he had left in the world.
By the time Wei wobbled into her narrow alley, her thighs burned from pedaling with a full-grown man clinging to her back. She nearly crashed into Aunt Zhang's broom when the old woman shuffled past.
"Xiao Wei, you're late tonight…" Aunt Zhang started, then froze, eyes flicking to the tall figure behind her.
Wei's heart plummeted.
"Uh! H-Hi, Aunt Zhang! This is my boyfriend! He came to visit. Okay bye!"
She practically hurled the bike into the corner, dragged Yan off it, and frog-marched him through the courtyard before Aunt Zhang could start her interrogation. She didn't breathe until she slammed her apartment door shut behind them.
Aunt Zhang's face flashed in her mind- the way the old woman's brows had arched at the tall stranger clinging to her like a lost puppy. Wei had blurted out "boyfriend" so fast she was surprised she hadn't bitten her tongue. Now, inside her apartment, she was breathing hard like she'd just outrun a pack of wild dogs.
Meanwhile, Yan was exploring.
If Wei's apartment had felt small before, now it was tiny. He filled the whole space without trying, his tall frame brushing close to the ceiling, his shadow spilling across the walls, his presence swallowing all the leftover air.
He moved with quiet grace, but there was something predatory in the way his eyes lingered on everything, as if memorizing the terrain of an alien world.
First, he bent low over her windowsill pots. His long hair slipped forward like a black curtain as he pinched a limp basil leaf between his fingers.
"This one suffers," he murmured.
Wei stared.
"Yeah, well, so do I."
If he noticed her sarcasm, he didn't show it. Instead, he straightened, crossing the two steps to her desk. His hand hovered over the taped-up sketches, then touched them with surprising gentleness.
"You made these?" His tone was reverent.
Wei hesitated.
"Yeah… Just ideas."
He tilted his head.
"They are warm."
"Warm?"
"They feel like home."
Her throat closed. For a split second, her heart betrayed her. It was skipping, stumbling. No one had ever looked at her silly doodles like that before.
But then he noticed her phone on the desk. The screen lit up with a ping.
Yan recoiled as if it had sprouted fangs. His eyes narrowed, a flash of his otherworldly presence sparking before dimming again. He picked it up between two fingers, holding it away from his body.
"What is this glowing box?" His voice dropped to a whisper, almost a growl. "A spirit prison?"
Wei lunged.
"That's not!" She snatched it from his hands. "It's a phone, okay? Not a prison. It doesn't bite. It's… like a magic mirror, but for messages."
He frowned.
"Messages?"
She opened her mouth to explain, then shut it again.
Oh God. He doesn't even know what a phone is.
That was when it truly hit her. She hadn't just brought a stranger home. She'd brought a stranger who didn't belong here at all. He was someone with no memories, no concept of the world, and maybe the ability to roast her alive with a flick of his hand if those memories ever returned. And she'd told him he was her boyfriend.
Great job, Wei. Brilliant survival tactic.
Yan's gaze lifted to hers. For all his sharp edges- broad shoulders, high cheekbones, eyes like banked coals, he looked lost.
"Will my memories return?" he asked quietly.
There was no menace in it. Just a hollow, raw uncertainty that made him seem less like a demon and more like a man stranded in the wrong life. Wei's stomach knotted. She forced her lips into something like a smile.
"Of course. Just rest, okay? Sleep will help. Tomorrow, you'll wake up and things will feel clearer. You'll see." Her voice cracked on the last word.
Yan held her gaze for a long, unreadable moment. Then he nodded once, slowly.
"I trust you."
The words landed like a stone in her chest. Wei swallowed hard. She turned away quickly, fumbling with the kettle just to give her hands something to do. Behind her, she could feel his presence filling her room. And in her mind, one thought pulsed over and over:
What happens if he remembers I lied?
Wei's fingers trembled as she poured water into the dented kettle, the metallic hiss filling the silence. She wasn't even thirsty, she just needed the noise to cover the panic buzzing in her head.
Behind her, Yan had gone strangely quiet. She risked a glance over her shoulder.
He was sitting cross-legged on her little sofa, posture tall and straight like he was perched on a throne. His eyes roamed the apartment again, but softer this time, as if he were trying to stitch together some sense of belonging from the scraps around him.
Her chest tightened. He trusts me. He actually believes me.
That thought alone made the air in the room heavy. She needed to say something to keep him from asking questions she couldn't answer.
Wei cleared her throat.
"You must be hungry. Wait here."
Yan blinked, then gave a small nod.
"Hungry…" He touched his stomach with a faint frown.
She grabbed her wallet and bolted out into the alley before she could overthink it. The night air was cool, lanterns bobbing lazily in the breeze. Just down the street, a vendor was still ladling steaming bowls of congee into plastic containers. Wei bought two, muttering thanks, then hurried back, praying she wouldn't run into Aunt Zhang again.
When she stepped inside, Yan rose immediately, eyes sharpening like a hawk spotting prey. For a split second, Wei's heart lurched until she realized his gaze was fixed not on her, but on the food in her hands.
"This," she said quickly, holding up the containers, "is our favorite comfort food. Congee. You love it. We always eat it when things are rough."
Her voice wobbled on that last word, but Yan didn't question her. Instead, he sank back down obediently as she set the bowls on her tiny coffee table. He picked up the cheap plastic spoon as though it were some ceremonial tool, studying the steaming white porridge with intense seriousness before finally tasting it. His eyes widened. He took another spoonful, then another.
"This…" His voice was hushed. "It is simple, gentle, and warm." He looked up at her, and his lips curved slightly. "Like you."
Wei nearly choked on her own congee. Heat shot to her cheeks so fast it was embarrassing.
"Don't say stuff like that!" she sputtered, looking away. "It's just rice. Everyone eats it."
But he shook his head, still eating slowly, savoring each bite.
"No. It feels different, as if it carries a memory I cannot see." His gaze lingered on her again, deep and unreadable. "And it tastes safe, because you gave it to me."
Wei's spoon froze halfway to her mouth. Her pulse skipped, warmth curling in her chest despite every warning bell in her brain. He doesn't even know who he is, and he's thanking me like I saved his world. She forced herself to laugh, though it came out thin.
"You're giving way too much credit to rice porridge, trust me."
But she didn't miss the way her hands shook a little less as she ate beside him, the silence between them now lined with something softer than fear.
The empty congee containers sat forgotten on the coffee table. Wei stacked them neatly, more to keep her hands busy than out of tidiness. The little clock on the wall ticked past eleven.
"You should rest," she said finally, glancing at Yan. "It's been a long day."
He looked around her apartment as if weighing her words against the space. His gaze landed on her bed tucked against the far wall, the quilt still rumpled from that morning. Wei's cheeks heated immediately.
"Don't even think about it. That's my bed."
He raised an eyebrow, then gave a surprisingly serious nod.
"Of course. I will sleep here." He patted the floor by the sofa, his tone firm, almost commanding. "This way I can protect you."
Wei blinked.
"Protect me? From what, the dust bunnies?"
But he didn't answer, only settled himself down on the wooden floor with an ease that made her wonder if he was used to far harsher places. Lying on his side, his arm curled beneath his head, he looked oddly regal for someone using her carpet as a mattress. Wei sighed, tugged her quilt over herself, and muttered,
"Suit yourself. Don't blame me if your back hates you tomorrow."
She turned to face the wall, but sleep didn't come. Instead, her phone's glow lit up the room as she typed "jade amulet temple Beijing folklore" into the search bar. Dozens of results popped up, most from amateur forums or dusty blogs.
Ancient jade amulets were sometimes used as demon binders, locking away dangerous spirits until the stone was broken.
Her throat went dry. She glanced over her shoulder. Yan's broad frame was still on the floor, breathing slow and even, but something about the word demon made her skin prickle.
As if to mock her thoughts, the lights above flickered. Just once, like a hiccup in the current. But Wei saw it. Her gaze shot to Yan.
He shifted slightly in his sleep, his hand falling palm-up. That was when she noticed it: a faint, pale scar tracing across his skin, thin as a thread of silver.
Wei's stomach twisted. Slowly, she opened her own hand under the quilt. Her breath caught. There, etched faintly on her palm was the same mark, glowing for the briefest second before fading.
"No way…" she whispered.
Her phone buzzed softly in her hand. She nearly dropped it, heart pounding. And then she heard him.
At first, it was a low murmur, almost like he was talking in his sleep. But the words weren't in her language. They weren't any language she knew. The sounds were guttural, heavy, like stones grinding together, vibrating with something ancient.
Yan's brow furrowed, his chest rising and falling unevenly. His fingers twitched as if grasping for something unseen. Wei sat up, clutching the quilt to her chest. Fragments of his voice reached her and then silence.
Yan exhaled, his face softening again. Whatever nightmare had gripped him loosened its hold.
Wei sank back against her pillow, pulse racing. He's not just some lost guy. His memories were still in there, waiting.
And for the first time since she'd dragged him into her life, she wasn't sure if she wanted those memories to come back.