The night was heavy.
Raindrops tapped gently against the bus window, as if reminding me—
ahead lay another world.
My name is Yu Sheng. I'm fourteen.
After ten hours on the road, I almost forgot where I was heading.
Outside, the mountain road twisted through layers of mist;
the fog lingered between the trees, soft and unreal, like a dream.
Mother said Luosang Town was my favorite place when I was little,
but I can no longer recall what it looked like.
She said I had been too quiet, too withdrawn lately,
and hoped that going back there would help me "find some peace."
Everything felt already arranged—
and I simply followed, like a leaf carried away by the wind.
The bus jolted. Leaning against the window,
I caught a glimpse—
in the rain-soaked forest, someone was dancing.
He spun with a grace too light, too fluid to be human;
raindrops slid down his hair, glimmering like faint light melting into the night.
I tried to see him more clearly,
but in the next heartbeat, he was gone.
For a moment, an odd feeling rose within me:
perhaps this journey "home" wasn't as simple as I thought.
---
When the bus finally reached Luosang Town, night had fallen deep.
Under the dim station light, a middle-aged man was dozing,
a lunch box dangling loosely from his hand.
I almost didn't recognize him—until the hiss of the bus door startled him awake.
"Yu Sheng?" he called.
"Grandpa."
I answered softly.
He smiled like a child and pushed the box into my hands.
"Your grandma was worried you'd be hungry.
She made curry chicken just for you."
The fragrance drifted through the cold night air.
As I lowered my head, a sudden warmth spread in my chest—
this place felt gentler, and somehow more alive,
than I remembered.