The night was restless.
Liang Shen tossed on his straw mat, his chest throbbing with a dull, unnatural heat. Sweat dampened his rough tunic as if fire smouldered beneath his skin. The silver mark, hidden for sixteen years, now pulsed faintly, veins of light crawling across his chest like living fireflies.
He gritted his teeth. "What's happening to me?"
No answer came—only that same whisper he had heard upon the mountain peak. It lingered like a curse, cold yet commanding.
"Even heaven cannot erase me."
The words echoed until they became part of his heartbeat.
He sat up, clutching his chest, and stumbled outside. The village was quiet now, festival lanterns reduced to dying embers. Only the soft chirping of crickets and the far-off howl of a wolf broke the silence.
The moonlight washed the dirt path in silver. Shen staggered toward the river that cut through the village, hoping the cold water would soothe the burn. He splashed it onto his chest—but instead of cooling, the mark flared brighter.
Silver light spread in rings across the water's surface, warping it like a mirror. For an instant, Shen saw not his own reflection, but the eyes of a man—ancient, proud, filled with a defiance that pierced the heavens themselves.
He recoiled, stumbling backward. The image shattered into ripples.
Who was that? Why does it feel… like me?
Before he could steady himself, footsteps echoed behind him.
"Liang Shen?"
He turned sharply. A young girl stood at the edge of the riverbank, carrying a small lantern. Her features were delicate, framed by black hair tied in a simple knot. She was Mei, the potter's daughter, one of the few villagers who didn't mock him.
Her eyes widened at the faint silver glow on his chest. "Your… your mark! It's glowing!"
Shen's face paled. He tugged his tunic closed. "You didn't see anything."
"But—"
"Mei!" he hissed, his voice sharper than he intended. "Please."
She froze, then slowly nodded, sensing the weight in his tone. Without another word, she set down the lantern and backed away.
Shen exhaled shakily, clutching his chest. The glow dimmed, the pain fading to an ember. Still, the words remained in his mind, unshakable.
Even heaven cannot erase me.
He returned to his hut at dawn, exhausted. But as the sun's first rays broke through the mist, a shadow passed over the village.