The apartment was quiet in the way only late nights ever were ,not truly silent, but hushed, like the world itself had lowered its voice. Xinyue slipped off her shoes by the door, lining them neatly against the wall out of habit, and padded inside with the soft, tired steps .
Her small living room glowed faintly from the moonlight , the faint white beam slicing across the floor like a ribbon of light. She flicked on the lamp, dropped her bag onto the couch, and let out a long breath.
"First day," she murmured to herself, pressing her palms together. "And I survived."
She went through her nightly routine the way she always did ,a warm shower to wash off the events of the day. The water steamed up the mirror, blurring her reflection until she barely recognized herself. She brushed her teeth, tied her hair into a loose braid, and changed into her oversized pajamas.
In her bedroom, she pulled the curtains closed, shutting out the blinking city lights. The bed welcomed her with a soft sigh of pillows and blankets, and for a moment, she lay staring at the ceiling, replaying the day in fragments.
The CEO's unreadable expression.
Her friends' whispered gossip over lunch.
Her own heart, traitorous and loud, every time she thought about those dark, familiar eyes.
"Stop it," she told herself, turning onto her side. "Sleep."
Eventually, sleep came.
But it did not come gently.
The world she fell into was not her own.
She stood beneath a sky the color of burning embers, clouds painted in violent shades of crimson and gold. The air was thick with smoke and the metallic scent of blood. Wind tugged at long silken sleeves that were not hers , flowing fabric in shades of deep red and white, embroidered with patterns she didn't recognize but somehow understood.
Hanfu.
The word drifted into her mind without explanation.
Around her, the ground was soaked in scarlet. It clung to the hems of her robes, stained the stones beneath her feet, and reflected the sky above like a shattered mirror. In the distance, banners fluttered on broken spears, their symbols torn and unreadable.
Then she saw him.
A man stood with his back to her at the center of the battlefield.
His robes were darker than the rest of the world ,black threaded with deep, glinting red, as though the shadows themselves had chosen to cling to him. Long hair fell down his back, tied with a simple ribbon that moved in the wind like a silent warning.
In his hand, he held a sword.
The blade dripped.
She wanted to call out to him, to ask who he was, to demand what had happened here , but her voice refused to exist. Her feet moved on their own, slow and careful, crunching softly over broken arrows and fallen armor.
The closer she got, the colder the air became.
The man turned.
But just as she was about to see his face .
The world shattered.
Xinyue jolted upright in bed, breath tearing from her chest like she had been underwater for too long. Her room was dark, familiar, safe. The red sky was gone. The blood-soaked ground was gone. The man with the sword ,gone.
Her heart hammered against her ribs.
She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to slow it, trying to convince herself that it had only been a dream.
Only a dream.
Yet the strange, lingering chill refused to leave her skin.
She lay back down, staring at the ceiling again, but the images were already fading, slipping through her mind like water through her fingers. The details blurred , the banners, the sky, the sword ,until all that remained was a feeling.
Fear.
And something else.
Familiarity.
She frowned into the darkness. "Why did that feel so… real?"
Eventually, exhaustion pulled her under once more, though this time her sleep was shallow and restless.
When her eyes opened again, her phone screen glowed beside her pillow.
4:00 AM.
She groaned softly, rolling onto her back. "Of course."
Her alarm wasn't set to go off until 5:30, but once she was awake, she knew better than to try and fight it. She grabbed her phone, the cool glass grounding her back in the real world.
Out of habit, she opened Weibo.
The screen flooded with headlines, celebrity gossip, trending tags, and late-night posts from people who, like her, apparently didn't know how to sleep. She scrolled lazily, eyes half-lidded, liking a post about a café's new dessert, skipping past a dramatic thread about a rumored breakup.
Then a trending topic caught her eye.
#AncientLegends
She paused.
Her thumb hovered over the screen for a second before tapping.
The feed filled with images of historical dramas, fan art of warriors in flowing robes.. One picture in particular made her breath hitch.
A man in dark robes, picture black and white like it had been drawn out of ancient times,although his face wasn't captured.
A sword in his hand.
She sat up straighter, a strange shiver running down her spine.
"That's ridiculous," she muttered, locking her phone and tossing it onto the bed. "You're just tired."
But the feeling refused to go away.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching her arms over her head. The early morning light hadn't yet touched the sky, and the world outside her window was still wrapped in deep blue shadows.
In the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face, studying her reflection as if it might reveal something new.
Same eyes.
Same face.
Same ordinary girl.
"You're overthinking," she told herself.
She dressed for work, moving through her routine on autopilot. Blouse. Skirt. Hair tied back neatly. A light touch of lip balm. By the time she slung her bag over her shoulder, she almost felt like herself again.
Almost.
As she reached for her door, a sudden image flashed through her mind , red sky, dark robes, a sword gleaming in the wind.
Her hand froze on the handle.
She shook her head sharply. "Get it together, Xinyue."
The door clicked open.
The hallway lights buzzed softly as she stepped out, the dream finally slipping behind her like a shadow she couldn't quite outrun.