Rain tapped the hospital window as Ling Tian opened his eyes to fluorescent lights and beeping monitors. His side throbbed where a steel beam had slammed into him on Floating Plaza Bridge, the crash still echoing in his head.
"Where's Yang?" he croaked, pushing himself up before sharp pain forced him back against the pillows. "He left for the mountain clinic early that morning—did he make it through the storm?"
Mom's hands trembled as she cupped his face, her eyes red-rimmed. "You've been out two days, Tian. Mudslides blocked all the roads—search teams couldn't get through to the pass."
Dad stood at the window, shoulders hunched against the gray sky. "Rest, son. There's nothing more we can do right now."
Ling Tian's gaze dropped to his chest. Under the thin hospital gown, his birthmark—a shape like a bird holding a lantern—glowed with a faint green light. He traced the lines with his finger, remembering the day he, Yang Chen, and Wu Lan had carved matching designs into wooden tokens as kids. We're three parts of one whole, Yang had said. Always.
That night, pain pills couldn't chase away the worry. Ling Tian drifted into sleep, and found himself standing on a narrow mountain ledge. Lantern lights glowed below in a village he'd never seen, and a boy with his same face crouched beside a shimmering green plant.
"Hurry—grab it first!" the boy shouted, his voice tight with fear.
A man with Yang's eyes stood between the boy and three armed figures, his hands raised like he was trying to talk them down. "Go! I'll hold them off!"
Shouting and scuffling echoed as the boy ran, looking back to yell, "I'll come back for you, Yang!"
Ling Tian jolted awake, sweat beading his forehead. His birthmark now burned bright and warm against his skin.
Dad pushed open the door, a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. Mom followed, sobbing quietly.
"They found the car in the ravine," Dad said, his voice breaking. "Yang swerved to avoid a fallen tree—and to save three kids who'd wandered onto the road. He didn't make it."
"No…" Ling Tian's breath hitched. "We had plans—we were supposed to open a shop together, him and Wu Lan and me…"
"He died protecting them," Mom said, pulling him close as tears streamed down both their faces. "That's exactly who he was."
Ling Tian broke down, clutching her hand. "He always looked out for everyone… even strangers."
PART II: THE LANTERN'S FATE
Three days later, Ling Tian leaned on a crutch outside The Lantern's Fate—the shop he and Yang had dreamed of running. Wu Lan rushed over, her dark hair tied back, tears glistening in her brown eyes. In her hands, she held a finished bird lantern—its design identical to his birthmark.
"Yang dropped this off the day before he left," she said, her voice shaking as she held it out. "He said we'd hang it above the shop today… for good luck."
"Wu Lan… he didn't make it back."
The lantern slipped from her grasp, clattering to the curb. She sank down beside it, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Ling Tian lowered himself next to her, lacing their fingers together.
"I've loved you for years," he said quietly, his thumb brushing her knuckles. "Wished I was brave enough to say it before… old enough to stand beside you."
She looked up, tears streaking her cheeks, and buried her face in his neck. "I've loved you too—only Yang knew. He'd tease us about waiting for the 'right time.'"
He held her tight, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "He wanted us to stop being scared."
Pulling back, she met his eyes, then leaned in for a gentle kiss—warm and familiar, like coming home.
"My parents are hosting a gathering tonight," he said, wiping away her tears. "Will you come as my partner? We'll hang the lantern in his honor—right where he wanted it."
A shaky smile touched her lips. "Yes. I'd want nothing more."
PART III: WHERE THE LIGHT MEETS
That night, after the gathering ended and the lantern glowed bright above the shop door, Ling Tian went home and fell into a deep sleep. His birthmark pulsed with warmth, pulling him back to the mountain ledge from his dream—only this time, it felt more real than anything he'd ever known.
The boy—who looked just like him—lay on the stone, his tunic stained red. The green plant he'd seen before was clutched in his hand, and three men in rough uniforms advanced toward him. A man with Yang's exact face stood frozen a few feet away, fear in his eyes, before turning and running into the trees.
The boy's breath came in ragged gasps as he whispered, "Please… don't let them blame Yang. I just wanted to be strong enough to keep people safe… like he tries to do for me."
Ling Tian moved without thinking, kneeling beside the boy. The green plant glowed brighter, its warmth reaching out to his chest where his birthmark burned.
"I know your pain," he said gently, his own eyes stinging with tears. "My friend Yang… he died protecting kids too. I don't know what this plant is, or why I'm here, or why you look like me—but I can feel how much you need help. How much you want to be strong."
The boy's eyes widened, and he looked at Ling Tian like he was seeing a miracle. "You… you understand?"
"I don't know how," Ling Tian said, his hand hovering over the boy's. "But something inside me says we're supposed to help each other. Like… whatever this is, we can't do it alone."
The boy's hand trembled as he pressed the green plant into Ling Tian's palm. "I trust you. I don't know who you are, but I trust you."
The moment their skin touched, the plant crumbled to dust. A wave of warm light flooded the air, wrapping around both of them. Ling Tian felt like he was being pulled forward, not into a dream, but into the boy's very being—memories he'd never lived flashed through his mind: running through village streets, sharing dried fruit with a boy named Yang, feeling small and weak every time he watched others work. All while his own memories—rain on the hospital window, Wu Lan's kiss, Yang's laugh—stayed clear and sharp.
When the light faded, he pushed himself up. The pain in his side was gone, replaced by a feeling of lightness he'd never known. He looked at his hands—they were smaller, the skin calloused in ways his own never had been. But when he touched his chest, his bird-and-lantern birthmark was still there, glowing softly.
"I'm still here," the boy's voice echoed in his head—warm, steady, and part of him now. "We're here. Together."
-
Ling Tian and Wu Lan were curled up in bed when a blinding white light exploded in the room—they cried out and shut their eyes. When Wu Lan opened them, Ling Tian was gone. The sheets were still warm, his green stone necklace lay on the bed, but he had vanished without a trace.
"Tian?!" She scrambled up, sobbing as she searched the room. Then she saw it: the bird lantern above the bed was blinking steadily, glowing soft green in a steady pulse.
His parents burst in, panicked. "Where's Tian?!" his dad demanded, freezing at the lantern.
"I don't know!" Wu Lan wept, clutching the necklace. "One second he was here—then gone. The lantern won't stop blinking."
His mom collapsed onto the bed, burying her face in the warm sheets. "We hung that last night—it wasn't supposed to do this." His dad reached toward the lantern, then pulled back. "The glow… it matches his stone."
They stood frozen in the quiet room—no sign of struggle, just an empty space and a blinking lantern calling out for him.
It was dark—no moon, just faint lantern glow from a village far below. Ling Tian woke up with a jolt, head throbbing, dirt and pine on his tongue. He pushed himself up, then froze: a boy who looked exactly like him lay bleeding at his feet, chest barely moving.
Three men in rough wool loomed over them. "Your buddy ran off like a coward," one sneered. "Left you to take the fall for stealing from the lord's land."
The boy's eyes fluttered open, fixing on Ling Tian with confusion and desperation. "I… I don't know you," he whispered hoarsely. "But please—take this." He pressed a small green plant into Ling Tian's palm. It glowed faintly, pulsing in the same rhythm he'd felt back home.
"My name's Lin Yun. I wanted this to help my friend stop running from trouble. I won't make it… my wish: be strong enough to protect people who can't fight back."
His hand went slack. His breathing stopped.
Ling Tian stared, frozen, as the men vanished into the trees—leaving him alone on the cold ledge, glowing plant in hand, no idea how he'd gotten there… or that a bird lantern was blinking in perfect time with the light in his fist.
It was dark—no moon, just faint lantern glow from the valley below. Ling Tian jolted awake in Lin Yun's body—blade in his ribs, dirt in his mouth, blood hot on his skin.
A vision slammed into him: Lin Yun scrambling up the mountain for the green plant, three men blocking his path. One swung a blade—thunk—it buried in his side. He staggered back, tripping over rock, then his eyes went wide as he stared at his own hands—Ling Tian's hands—shaking in front of his face.
"Wh—who… are you?" Lin Yun gasped, each word torn from his chest in ragged bursts. His voice cracked, wet with blood. "You look… like me—are you… an immortal? Please… please, save me—"
Ling Tian's mind raced, no time to speak—
"Little rat trying to steal what's ours!" The tallest man kicked him down hard. "Skinny weed—your buddy ran like a coward and left you!"
The blade twisted, then ripped free.
"Help? Pathetic wretch!" The man spat, raising his fist. "You're trash!"
The blow crashed down. Lin Yun's heart stilled.
Then, Ling Tian's own eyes fluttered open. He was lying on soft ground, the pain in his ribs gone. The glowing plant was nowhere to be seen. Across from him, a bonfire crackled, casting dancing shadows—and a blurry figure of a man sitting by it, his features lost in the flicker of light.
Ling Tian tried to push himself up, but his limbs were heavy, his head spinning. Before he could make out more, darkness pulled him under again, and he fell back asleep.
When he woke next, the sun was warm on his face. A man stood over him—broad-shouldered, with a scar through his left eyebrow and worn leather clothes. Lin Yun's throat tightened; it was the boy from the vision.
"Yang… brother…" The words tumbled out before he could stop them, tears stinging his eyes as they streamed down his cheeks.
The man's face softened, and he knelt down, placing a steady hand on Lin Yun's shoulder. "Yeah, kid—I'm your brother now. What's wrong with you?" He brushed a tear from Lin Yun's cheek with his thumb, leaving a faint smudge of dirt. "I told you a hundred times—if we get cornered, you run. When I say run, you run! It's just a herb—life's more important than some plant that grows out of rocky dirt. Forget about it already, will you? From the village all the way here, you've been crying nonstop. What is wrong with you?"
He ruffled Lin Yun's hair so hard it made his head bob, then grinned wide. "And hey—stop calling me brother. From now on, it's Master Baby!" He threw his head back and let out a loud, hearty laugh that echoed off the nearby rocks, making a few birds scatter from the trees above.
After a moment, Yang's laughter died down, and he pulled a water skin from his belt, handing it to Lin Yun. "C'mon—drink up. We can't stay here all day moping. Got stuff to do, places to be… and I ain't carrying you the whole way back to the village again. My back's still sore from last time you passed out on me."
Lin Yun took the water skin, his hands trembling slightly as he lifted it to his lips. As the cool water hit his throat, he glanced up at Yang—at the easy smile on his face, the way his scar crinkled when he grinned. Even though he didn't know where he was, or why he'd woken up in this body, something about the man in front of him felt… safe.
Yang stood up, dusting dirt off his knees, and gestured toward a narrow path winding down the mountain. "Alright, sleepyhead—let's move. First stop: a tavern where I can get us some real food. And trust me, after what you've been through, you're gonna need it."
He started walking, then paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Oh, and Lin Yun? If you start crying again on the way there, I'm gonna tell everyone you're my little sister who got lost in the woods. Got it?"
With another loud snort of laughter, he turned and headed down the path—leaving Lin Yun to follow, still trying to make sense of a world that felt both completely new and strangely familiar.
A little while later, they were on the move—both dressed in plain black cloth that blended into the mountain shadows, Yang's worn leather gear tucked under his like he'd done it a hundred times. Lin Yun followed silently, his eyes darting everywhere—taking in the strange paths, the unfamiliar trees, the way Yang moved like he'd walked these hills his whole life.
They'd been walking for hours when a crooked wooden sign came into view: The Crooked Mug.
"Alright, shortstack—we're stopping here," Yang said, nodding toward the tavern's smoke-stained walls. He glanced down at Lin Yun, who just stared back, his lips pressed tight. "Yeah, yeah, I know—you're still in your 'mopey silent phase.' Fine by me. You sit tight inside and don't even think about causing trouble."
Lin Yun followed him through the heavy wooden door, the air inside thick with the smell of ale and roasted meat—nothing like anything he'd known before. He hung back as Yang flagged down the bartender with a wave, then let himself be nudged toward a corner table, his hands folded in his lap.
"Stay put," Yang said, his voice carrying over the low murmur of the room. "I'll grab us something to eat and drink—you look like you haven't had a proper meal since you were a baby." He shot Lin Yun a lopsided grin, though his eyes scanned the tavern carefully. "And for the love of—no shouting 'Master Baby' in here, got it? Last time someone heard that, they thought I was starting a dance troupe for toddlers."
He sauntered off to the bar, slapping a few coins down and chatting with the bartender in low tones. After a moment, two tankards and a platter of bread and stew appeared on the bar. Yang grabbed them, set the food and drink on Lin Yun's table with a soft clunk, then ruffled his hair one more time—hard enough to make his head spin a little.
"Gonna take ten minutes tops," he said, already backing toward the door. "Don't you dare finish all the stew before I get back—I swear I'll know if you do." With a final wink, he slipped out quietly—leaving Lin Yun alone at the table, staring at the warm food in front of him, completely lost in a world he didn't recognize.
The tavern door swung open, letting in a gust of salt-tinged air that made the lanterns flicker. An old man with a weathered face and white beard walked in first, followed by a girl about Lin Yun's age with bright eyes. She held a bamboo hat, and a small ornate blade hung at her waist.
They went straight to Lin Yun's corner. As the girl got closer, she looked at his face, her eyes widening. She whispered to the old man, who snapped his head up and stared hard at Lin Yun.
"That's him."
END OF CHAPTER 1