Chapter Two: The Man Who Died
David had never considered himself anything beyond ordinary. At twenty-one, he was tall and lanky, with a physique that leaned more toward fragility than strength. His dark, tousled hair seemed perpetually unruly, offering a rebellious contrast to his careful nature, while his glasses, ever so slightly too big for his face, frequently slipped down his nose, needing constant adjustment.
His eyes, however, were his most intriguing feature—thoughtful and observant, they often wandered to unnoticed details that escaped those around him: the delicate patterns of raindrops racing down a windowpane, the low hum of flickering neon lights in the distance, and the subtle shifts in a person’s expression when they believed themselves to be unseen. Though his friends would sometimes jest about his quiet demeanor and serious outlook, David accepted their teasing with an easy grace, aware that his depth of perception set him apart in a world filled with surface distractions.
He immersed himself in the captivating world of computer science at university, where the intricate tapestry of hidden languages danced before him like an enigmatic spell. Each line of code was a brushstroke on the vast canvas of technology, capable of igniting a screen with vibrant flickers, summoning voices from the abyss of silence, and bending intricate systems to his will. It was a kind of magic he had always yearned to understand, weaving the fabric of reality in ways his world had only begun to explore.
To cover his tuition, he took on a part-time job at a local politician’s campaign office, where he deftly managed their social media platforms. While the work was far from glamorous—spending hours scheduling posts, editing catchy slogans, and monitoring engagement metrics that fluctuated like the rise and fall of stock prices—it provided a steady income that kept him afloat. Yet, amidst the mundanity, he convinced himself that he was honing valuable skills for his future, envisioning the experience as a stepping stone toward something greater.
He wasn’t alone in his world. There was Emily, his vibrant girlfriend of two years, whose laughter filled the air like sunlight breaking through clouds. As a nursing student at the same university, she brought a sense of warmth and compassion that balanced his quiet, contemplative nature. Their evenings were spent sprawled on the well-worn couch of her cozy, tiny apartment, surrounded by the aroma of takeout noodles that mingled with the faint scent of her essential oils. They would dive into deep conversations, sharing dreams that danced on the edge of reality — hers, a passionate ambition of saving lives with gentle hands and a caring heart, and his, a desire to create something meaningful with code that would leave a lasting impact on the world. Together, they forged a bond that transformed simple moments into cherished memories.
As she nestled against his shoulder and drifted into a peaceful slumber, David gently swept her hair back, letting his fingers linger in the soft, silken strands. In those quiet moments, a warmth spread through him, and he mused to himself: Perhaps this is enough. Perhaps all I truly need in this world is the comfort of her presence beside me, the simplicity of this serene connection.
But life in his world was a delicate tapestry, fraying at the edges, and destiny seemed indifferent to the fragile dreams woven within. That night, he lingered at the office long after others had left, his eyes weary and gritty from the unrelenting glow of multiple screens. As he glanced at his phone, a warm smile spread across his face at Emily's text: "Come over when you’re done. I’ll keep the lights on for you." The words wrapped around him like a comforting embrace as he slid into the driver’s seat of his car, the dashboard illuminating his surroundings with a soft, ethereal blue against the backdrop of the rain-smeared windshield.
The road unfurled before him, its surface slick and glistening under the cascade of rain, reflecting the occasional flickering glow of headlights that danced like stars over the dark asphalt. The steady hum of the engine played a soothing melody that lulled him deeper into a trance of fatigue. His thoughts drifted — to Emily, her laughter a balm to his weary soul; to the looming assignment due in just two days, its urgency a weight pressing against his chest; and to the nagging question of whether he should leave the campaign job behind and seek something more aligned with his true passion, even if that meant stepping into the unknown.
He never saw the other car until it was too late.
Headlights sliced through the darkness, harsh and blinding, a beacon of impending doom. The shriek of tires slicing against the slick, rain-soaked pavement filled the air, a desperate cry for grip as chaos unfolded. The crash echoed like a clap of thunder, the metal of the car crumpling like fragile paper and glass exploding into a thousand shimmering fragments.
In that fleeting moment, time seemed to suspend—a surreal pause before calamity. He could almost feel Emily's warm smile buoying his spirit, the gentle caress of her hand enveloping his own, fingers entwined in a perfect fit. Her name lingered unbidden on his lips, along with the weight of the text left unanswered on his phone, teetering on the edge of oblivion. Then, in an instant, everything shattered, consumed by darkness.
The kind of darkness that enveloped him wasn’t merely sleep; it was an expanse of nothingness, a profound void that consumed all. His body felt like a whisper, intangible and fleeting, while his name faded like a distant echo. Memories swirled around him, scattering like autumn leaves caught in a restless breeze, each fragment dissipating into the endless black. He drifted, weightless and adrift, a soul unmoored in a timeless abyss that offered no solace.
Then, with a sudden jolt, a hand grasped him firmly.
It was not merely flesh, but a tapestry of essence — vibrant crimson threads swirling and intertwining around him, relentlessly pulling, binding, and dragging him through a tempest of shadow and flickering flames. A voice, deep and resonant, flowed through the enshrouding void like dark water:
“Forgive me, lost one. You do not belong in this realm, but she needs you.”
And in that moment of turmoil, he beheld her.
A woman, as radiant as the full moon on a clear night, stood gracefully draped in a flowing white gown, intricately embroidered with delicate lotus blossoms that seemed to dance in the soft light. Her figure shimmered with an ethereal glow, but beneath that luminous exterior lay a soul fractured and bleeding, collapsing inward like a fragile bird with broken wings. He — bewildered and utterly helpless — felt himself drawn irresistibly into her wound, fused with her essence like a golden thread woven through the delicate strands of torn silk, entwined by an inexplicable bond that transcended the ordinary.
David gasped, though no lungs drew breath; it was a sensation that transcended the physical realm. He felt her heartbeat echo within him, a rhythmic pulse that resonated like a distant drumbeat in the stillness of a forgotten night. Waves of her pain washed over him, sharp and relentless, mingling with the fierce strength that coursed through her veins. He sensed her endless loneliness, a profound ache that wrapped around their connection like a shroud, whispering of solitude and yearning. In that moment, he was both her and something more, intimately intertwined in a tapestry of shared emotions.
In the beginning, there was only an all-encompassing stillness, a serene void that stretched into infinity. Then, out of this silence, emerged a heartbeat. Not his own, yet inexplicably connected to his very essence. It pulsed like a distant drum, steady and unyielding, reverberating through the vast emptiness and infusing it with life.
David slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the soft glow that surrounded him.
He was not among the twisted remnants of a wreckage that spoke of chaos and despair. The air was untouched by rain, devoid of the sharp shards of glass that once glimmered ominously in the aftermath. No sound of Emily's anguished cries pierced the silence. Instead, he found himself enveloped in a boundless white expanse, an ethereal landscape where delicate lotus petals drifted like whispers through the air. Each petal glowed with a soft, sacred luminescence, casting a tranquil light that made the surroundings feel almost otherworldly, as if he had slipped into a dream meticulously crafted from pure light.
Where... am I?
He pressed his palm against his chest, but found no solid form beneath his touch—only the haunting whisper of a presence long gone. As a wave of panic surged within him, dragging at the edges of his consciousness, another force swept in like a relentless tide, flooding his mind with vivid memories that were not his own.
A towering mountain peak loomed ominously beneath a tempestuous sky, jagged bolts of lightning crashing down with fierce intensity yet oddly sparing the rocky slopes from destruction. In the midst of this chaotic grandeur stood a serene temple courtyard, where ancient stones whispered secrets, and a child glowed with an ethereal radiance, surrounded by the warm embrace of shimmering lotus flames.
He felt a shiver—an icy kiss, as frigid as freshly fallen snow, pressed against his throat, while a deep yearning churned inside him, suppressed and restless. Staggering backwards, he gasped, eyes wide with disbelief. “That’s… that’s not me,” he stammered, grappling with the disorienting vision.
Yet, as the storm raged, the tendrils of his own memories surged forward, battling against the confusion. He recalled the sweet sound of Emily’s laughter, bright and carefree, echoing over bowls of steaming noodles shared on a rainy afternoon, their warmth wrapping around them like a cocoon against the world outside.
The rhythmic clack of his keyboard filled the air, each keystroke sending a cascade of code shimmering across the screen like an intricate ballet. Outside, headlights sliced through the darkness, illuminating the night for just a fleeting moment before the deafening crash shattered the stillness.
In that instant, two rivers of memory collided, their turbulent waters swirling and merging until it became an impossible task to discern where one memory ended and the other began. His breath — if it could be called such, given the tremor that coursed through him — quaked with an intensity that felt both foreign and hauntingly familiar.
And then, amidst the delicate dance of colorful petals, he beheld her.
A woman draped in flowing white, her hair cascaded like a midnight waterfall, shimmering with an otherworldly luster. Her eyes, deep and ancient, glowed with a luminous intensity that seemed to hold the wisdom of ages. She regarded him not with astonishment, but with a profound sorrow, as if she had been awaiting his arrival for eternity.
“Who are you?” he uttered almost breathlessly, his heart quickening.
Her lips parted slowly, and when she spoke, her voice was a gentle melody, imbued with the weight of countless centuries.
“I am Lián Xuě… and you have ventured into the very depths of my soul.”
The words anchored him in place, as if the very ground beneath his feet had become a part of her essence. Inside her? Bound to her? Despite his desire to push that thought away, he could feel her heartbeat resonating within him, a rhythmic echo that stirred something deep in his soul. The weight of her power enveloped him, pressing against the fragile boundaries of his existence, urging him to surrender to its intensity.
David’s throat tightened, a lump of disbelief forming as realization dawned. “So I’m… not dead?”
Her gaze wavered, uncertainty creeping into her eyes like a shadow. “You died,” she said softly, the weight of her words hanging in the air like an autumn mist. “In your world, you are gone, a whisper lost to time. But here… you remain, tethered to this realm. You were drawn to me to heal the fractures within my soul.”
He stood there, his heart pounding, the delicate petals swirling around them like confetti in a forgotten celebration. His voice trembled, breaking under the strain of emotions. “I shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, his words heavy with regret and longing. “I was meant to go—somewhere.
Anywhere but here. Not…” His voice trailed off, swallowed by the silence that enveloped them.
His hands trembled like fragile leaves caught in a sudden breeze. “Not inside you,” he murmured, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. Lián Xuě’s gaze softened, a myriad of emotions flickering in her eyes—was it pity, perhaps, or a profound understanding of the depths of his turmoil? Yet, her silence wrapped around them both like a shroud, offering him no solace.
In that heavy stillness, David came to grasp a singular, chilling truth above all else: he had not merely survived; he had been bound, shackled by the very chains of his own despair.