I woke up to the white ceilings of a hospital room, blinking against the harsh light. I opened my eyelids wider to see my surroundings and situation, luckily I was okay-- or so I thought, because at the time that was what I thought the situation was. But then a nurse entered, her eyes widening as she saw me awake. She hurried out, returning moments later with a doctor who was wearing a white coat with glasses. I looked at them with questioning eyes then the doctor came up to me and started to explain the current situation.

"Hello, my name is Chen Fei," he began, extending his hand. "But you can just call me 

Dr. Chen."

I shook his hand weakly. "Lan Zhan," I replied, my voice raspier than I remembered.

Dr. Chen pulled up a stool beside my bed. "How are you feeling? Any dizziness? Blurry vision?"

"A bit of a headache," I admitted. "But... I'm alive, so that's something." I forced a smile, and he chuckled.

"That's the spirit," he said, flipping through the clipboard in his hands. "You were hit by a truck. It was close, but you mostly hit the back of your head. No fractures, just bruises and a mild concussion".

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "The kid... is he okay?"

Dr. Chen's smile softened. "The child is fine, thanks to you. In fact, his family is waiting outside. They've been here since you were brought in."

My eyes widened. "Wait... what? Why?"

"To say thank you," he replied simply. "You saved their son. Not many people would throw themselves in front of a truck for a stranger."

"I... I don't know. I acted," I mumbled, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. I wasn't a hero; I moved without thinking. It felt instinctive, not courageous; it was the right thing to do right?.

Dr. Chen smiled knowingly and got up from his seat. "Well, I think you should hear it from them yourself." He opened the door and gestured for someone to enter.

A young boy peeked in first, his eyes puffy and red, clinging to his mother's hand. She nudged him forward gently, and he stumbled a bit before standing straight, clutching a bouquet of yellow Chrysanthemums tightly in his tiny hands.

I managed to put on a smile. "Hey there, what's your name?"

He sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "Wen Sizhui... mister."

"Wen Sizhui," I repeated, nodding. "That's a strong name."

His lower lip quivered. "Mister... I'm sowwy... 'cause of me you're hurt..." His voice cracked, and I could see fresh tears welling up in his eyes.

"No, no," I said quickly, shaking my head. "You don't need to say sorry. I'm fine, see?" I gestured to myself with a grin, though it probably looked more like a grimace.

He sniffled again and held up the flowers. "I brought you these..."

I reached out, accepting the bouquet with gentle hands. The petals were soft, delicate, and smelled faintly of autumn. "Thank you, Wen Sizhui. They're beautiful."

His mother stepped forward, her eyes glistening. "I'm Wen Qing," she said softly. "Thank you... if you hadn't been there, I don't know what would have happened." Her voice trembled, and she clasped my hands and hers together tightly, if you ever need anything or a favor please feel free to call me or my husband Wen Jiang.

I shook my head to the right and left again. "I'm just happy he's okay. That's what matters, no need for any types of favors."

Before she could respond, the door opened again, and Dr. Chen entered, followed by a tall man in a business suit-Wen Jiang, I assumed. He approached with a firm nod, shaking my hand. "I'd like to pay your hospital bill," he announced, his tone resolute, then he gave the money to 

Dr. Chen.

I blinked, taken aback. "That's... really not necessary. I-"

"I insist," he interrupted, voice firm but kind. "It's the least we can do for the man who saved our son." He then reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a small envelope. "And this... consider it a gesture of our gratitude too."

I paused, glancing back at the boy, whose eyes still shone with unspoken gratitude. Slowly, I nodded. "Thank you... I appreciate it."

He handed me the envelope. I hesitated for a bit before taking it, feeling the weight of it in my hands. I slid my thumb under the flap and peeked inside. My eyes widened.

"This... this is too much," I stammered, seeing the check with an amount that could easily pay not just the hospital bills, but several months of my rent.

Wen Jiang smiled, his expression gentle but unyielding. "No amount of money can compare to a life saved. Please, accept it."

I swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "Thank you again... I don't know what to say."

Dr. Chen glanced at his watch. "Alright, visiting hours are just about up. Let's give him some time to rest."

"Oh yes," Wen Jiang said, "And Lan Zhan, no need for thanks we should be thanking you instead so keep being the kind of person who would risk everything for a stranger," he replied, patting my shoulder before turning to leave with his family.

Wen Qing gave me a gentle smile, Wen Jiang nodded once more, and Wen Sizhui waved timidly as they exited the room. As the door clicked shut behind Dr. Chen, I let myself breathe for the second time since waking up.The envelope felt heavy in my hand, not just in weight, but in significance. I never expected to be rewarded for simply... acting. But here it was, a gesture of gratitude that could change my life in more ways than I knew.

I lay back against the pillow, flowers cradled in my lap, I clutched the envelope that was still in my hands, my fingers shaking-not from pain, but something else. Relief? Guilt? I couldn't tell.

I should've felt happy and relieved to be okay.

I felt something strange-like a whisper in my mind. It was faint, barely a breath.

I hope I locked the car...

My eyes shot open. The room was empty, silent. I looked around, heart pounding, but there was no one.

Did I imagine that?

I rubbed my temples, chalking it up to the painkillers. But just as I closed my eyes, another whisper trickled into my mind.

I should call my daughter before it gets too late...

I bolted upright, eyes darting to the door. Was someone standing outside? I strained to listen, but all I heard was the soft hum of medical equipment.

The whispers weren't coming from the room.

They were coming from somewhere else.

Oh right-if you're going to follow my story, you should probably know who I am. But I suppose introductions are overdue but here I go.

My surname is Lan, and my full name is Lan Zhan (藍湛)-my formal name given at birth. Lan WangJi is my courtesy name, granted by my elders when I do turn twenty. you might have guessed, I'm Chinese. And before you start thinking it's a big deal, let me tell you-it's really not. I'm just a hardworking student with a habit of studying all night, balancing novel writing with university demands. It's not easy, but I've always taken pride in submitting well-researched work and meeting deadlines without fail. It's my way of striving for excellence. So in a gist I'm just your average university student, living alone in Beijing, far from my home in Wuyuan Village. Most of the time, I'm balancing exams, writing deadlines, and instant noodles. Nothing about me screams 'hero'-and yet here I am. And so I started hearing voices-mysterious, distant whispers mixed up with my own thoughts. I know it sounds bizarre, and if you think I'm crazy, I wouldn't blame you. Honestly, I'd probably think the same. But how else can I explain it? BUT do I even need to explain anything with what just happened?!

So I stayed in the hospital for three more days under observation. Doctors came and went, poking, prodding, and shining lights into my eyes. They told me to rest, and I tried. But even through the haze of painkillers, I noticed odd things. The nurse would smile at me and ask if I needed anything, but I would catch flashes of voices like-Did I turn off the stove? I hope my daughter did well on her test. I brushed it off as imagination, as fragments of dreams leaking into waking life. I told myself it was nothing more than exhaustion.

But the whispers didn't stop. In the hallway, as I hobbled with my IV pole, I'd hear soft murmurs like distant conversations. I have to pick up my kid. I forgot the report. I looked around, but nobody was speaking. Still, I dismissed it. Painkillers can do strange things.

I was discharged from the hospital with a few bruises and a bandage wrapped around my head. The doctor said I was lucky, but I didn't feel that way. The whispers followed me out of the hospital doors, lingering at the edge of my consciousness, soft but persistent. I ignored them, thinking they would fade. But I was wrong.

What I didn't know yet was that the accident had left me with something strange. Something that would make my life... a little bit less ordinary.