Flames crackled into the night breeze as they appeared before his eyes, blazing and bright. 

He’d arrived too late yet again, always hoping he could be a few seconds faster, as though that would make a difference and he could save them. 

After repeatedly going through the same event, he could now recall the amount of steps he took to get home—a small sliver of knowledge that he couldn’t forget, only further weighing on his consciousness.

His older brother, Zhen Zhi, was exactly where Zhen Xue last saw him. No matter how many times he faced him, Zhen Xue still fell to his knees in despair, feeling like that should be him there instead. 

Tears didn’t come out as easily as they did the first hundred times. He didn't start crying until he heard his older brother panting weakly, his breath growing shorter by the moment.

Zhen Zhi laid taunt on the ground, blood pooling around him, part of his face disfigured from the fire that burned down their home. “Little brother…” he croaked out, coughing up blood and regaining some awareness. “I told you to run. Why did you come back to this terrible scene?”

Zhen Xue couldn’t say anything at first, letting Zhen Zhi’s words hang in the air while he thought about all the ways he failed them. He had this conversation countless times, but like a bad habit he couldn’t break, he willingly stepped into the same trap. 

“I failed you,” he whispered brokenly, reaching out to clutch the front of Zhen Zhi’s clothes as though by sheer willpower he could keep him alive. “No, that doesn’t even matter anymore…” he said, more to himself. Apologizing wouldn’t bring them back. He said enough of them to know.

Why? Why did this happen?! The day began like any other in the Zhen household, but when he returned home from class, a sudden, unexpected tragedy occurred, shattering the normalcy. Even now, he could feel nothing but the wind sweeping across his tear-stained face and the hollowness now placed in his chest where warmth used to dwell.

Zhen Tianshi, their younger sister by a year apart, laid lifeless nearby, discarded beneath a mountain of ruin. What about the braised pork she promised to make when he passed his exams? A celebratory dinner for the promises of the future they would make together. Such thoughts were pointless now, but he still choked up while looking at the sole of her shoes. 

Waves of grief wash over him like a tidal wave, knowing he’ll face a reality without her. Her stiff body was all that remained, yet he repeated the words like before, a broken mantra. “Little sister… My finals are approaching. Graduation is only a week away,” he whispered at her corpse. “Won’t you get up and celebrate with us?”

Zhen Zhi squeezed his hand, trying to bring him comfort. “She would be proud of you,” he said, holding his gaze. “I’m proud of you,” he continued, forcing himself to smile for his sake, knowing that words wouldn’t stop his approaching death. 

Yet, his older brother still tried to wear a mask for him despite bleeding out and half lifeless. That knowledge used to make him weep even more, but this time, Zhen Xue held his gaze with half broken appreciation. 

“You will survive this.” Zhen Zhi coughed. “Your life is just beginning to blossom.”

“While yours is ending before my eyes.” Zhen Xue shook his head at the ground, smiling brokenly at nothing. “What about our plans to see the Northern mountains? What about the field of flowers Tianshi longed to care for? When I made enough money for the three of us, we promised to live without regrets. We were so close to having that future, but my efforts were too late.” He was too late. His hands tightened at his sides, regret twisting in his stomach like a knife.

Zhen Zhi sighed heavily, silence spreading between them as he stared at what was once their younger sister. “Perhaps Tianshi is already in that field of flowers, caring for them,” he suggested. “Perhaps the three of us will reunite on the Northern mountains one day.” His dark gaze looked a bit more hopeful as they returned to Zhen Xue. “Live well so that we can hear your stories. Though we can’t travel with you anymore, that doesn’t mean we can’t be together again someday.”

Before his eyes could glaze over, Zhen Xue pushed through his sadness, swearing with reverence like he does every time, though the flood of hope he once had by saying them were long forgotten. “I promise,” he whispered numbly. 

He took a shaky breath, watching Zhen Zhi’s breath finally leave him. No longer did he have the energy to repeat the rest of the words he once said, how he hoped they would wait for him on the Northern mountains. How they’ll share Tianshi braised pork, sitting around together, reminiscing about the good old days, and then he’d share his stories with them as promised. Over time, he realized they wouldn’t wait around. 

“You should’ve died too,” Zhen Zhi hissed into his ear—a hallucination he knew, but yet when spoken from his voice, Zhen Xue could only believe those words, knowing them to be true.

He still remembered the scream that broke through him that night, both raw and broken. He wanted to drown and drown until the numbness swallowed him whole, but he couldn’t. Not yet. 

Usually, at this point in the dream, he’d wake up in a cold sweat, but this time, the nightmare didn’t end. The figure in white made an appearance. His long silver hair bellowed around his white clothes, leaving one with a distinct impression. This man was not human, not anymore. Though Zhen Xue could not make out his face in the dark, having never seen more than his cocky smile, he recognized him immediately and for a moment, he saw red. 

The ghost approached him with haste, raising his ebony blade over Zhen Xue as though to finish what he started. Zhen Xue didn’t even so much as flinch, glaring at the source of his suffering with enough fire to rival the demons in hell. “You want to kill me?” he laughed. “Go ahead, but I will ensure we both die together.”

The ghost smiled, pausing for a moment—something icy about the way he gripped the sword tighter. “You should probably wake up,” he said with a thoughtful tone. “Can’t have you losing your mind when we have so much to do.”

The ghost swept forward, flicking his forehead with an intensity that sent him falling backwards. He succumbed to the darkness and when he awoke, he was no longer in his room. He paused, feeling the chill in the air, and for the first time, questioned whether what he knew was real.

He looked down, finding the hands of a child and wobbled on his two legs as he moved to the nearest window. From this height, one could see for miles and witness the golden lanterns floating among the stars, and how the lights flickered from the city below as locals enjoyed the festivities… The view stole his breath. This was Cassanova’s spring festival—an event that he wrote about in his novel, The Water God and his Silver Dragoness. 

“Dianxia,” a boy mumbled from behind him, as though the word was a sacred treasure he rediscovered. Zhen Xue inhaled sharply, praying that whoever was behind him was speaking to someone else. He turned around to find Ming Yi, the male lead from his story, who looked up at him with his green eyes set ablaze with fervor. “You were screaming in your sleep.”

Zhen Xue faltered backwards, heart pounding loudly with fear. His back hit the wall as a terrible crawling sensation crept over his skin. Ming Yi’s loyalty to the prince was unhinged. He was down right possessive and eventually, would not hesitate to kill him to keep him ‘safe.’ 

Moving out from within the shadows, Zhen Xue’s eyes widened at the silver haired ghost that appeared. His long white clothes bellowed around him as he approached Ming Yi, raising his ebony blade just like before.

Instinctively, Zhen Xue rushed forward, pulling Ming Yi out of the way and down the hallways of the royal palace. For now, neither of them could survive without the other.