I see myself as someone who thinks deeply—perhaps to the point that it hurts. I don’t just want to create art or write words—I want them to mean something real. I want to be seen without being lied to. Not admired—but understood.

This story is one where every style choice carries the weight of what’s real beneath the surface. I hope it speaks to you.

(Chapter 1)

             Being ordinary is overrated.

I wasn’t always like this. Just three days ago I was another student—writing, studying, keeping my head down.

But everything changed the night I stepped into the glowing streets of Beijing during the Mid-Autumn Festival.

That night, the city looked like something out of a dream—crimson and gold lanterns swaying in the breeze, music drifting through the streets, and the scent of mooncakes and roast meats everywhere. I should’ve stayed in my apartment like usual. But something made me go out. Maybe fate. Maybe boredom. Maybe something else.

All I know is... if I hadn’t gone out that night, none of this would’ve happened.

So let’s rewind a bit so I can tell you how it all began.

In a city lit with bright red lamps, the Mid-Autumn Festival in 2035 was in full swing. Families reunited over mooncakes, appreciating the moon, lighting colorful lanterns, and drinking osmanthus wine. Children dashed around with rabbit lanterns while performers juggled fire, and musicians played traditional melodies in the packed streets that floated through the air. Also this air was thick with the aroma of fresh pastries and roasted chestnuts, mingling with the sweet scent of blooming osmanthus. Everywhere you looked, vendors sold paper fans, sugar sculptures, and hand-painted lanterns. It felt like night had been replaced with celebration.Then there's me. I'm 18 and I get three days off from university as a student to celebrate. Normally, I’d use this time to work on my novels. Writing helps me forget the loneliness of living alone and a source of income too in my tiny Beijing apartment, far from my hometown, Wuyuan Village in Jiangxi.

My parents wanted me to study at Jiangxi Wuyuan Tea Vocational College (江西婺源茶业职业学院), the only nationally-run university in China with a focus on tea. It’s in Wuyuan—the most beautiful village, book town, and tea town in the country. And don’t get me wrong—I wouldn’t have minded going there. But I craved adventure, something new, something beyond the familiar paths of home. So, ancestors, please don’t be disappointed—I had to do this. And that’s why I spent the festival alone.

But this year, I decided not to stay cooped up in my apartment. I went out to explore the city, which was alive with the glow of lanterns in the streets of Beijing at night. Lanterns in every size and color lit the streets, turning night into a warm, flickering dream. Laughter echoed from families. Children dashed through crowds with new toys. Parents watched with soft smiles. The air swirled with the scent of roasted meats, sweet pastries, and joy. The dark night wore the glow of morning  like a borrowed robe of sunlight. While the streets were packed with performers juggling fire, musicians playing traditional melodies, and calligraphers writing wishes on strips of red paper while under a sky painted with red and yellow fireworks. It felt like stepping into another world—one where magic seemed almost possible.

And meanwhile this is happening I'm looking for a restaurant to eat at for such a special year. I found this restaurant Kao Rou Ji online, a traditional Beijing restaurant famous for its roast lamb, which is their specialty! “With a reputation like that, how could I not?” I caught my reflection in the restaurant's glass door—brown eyes staring back at me, plain and unremarkable. My black hair, unkempt from a long day, shimmered faintly with hints of brown under the neon lights. If an average person had a face, it would probably look like mine. The smell hit me the moment I walked in, rich and savory, making my stomach growl.I walked forward to the counter where the waiter greeted me with a bright smile.

"Welcome! Where would you like to sit?"

"By the window, please," I replied.

The waiter guides me to a table with a perfect view where I can see the outside of the beautifully decorated city full of bright red lamps. Then I ask the waiter for the menu. I flipped to the drinks menu out of habit, then quickly backtracked. Not those drinks — definitely not old enough for that yet. So if you are thinking about that, get your head out of the gutters. So when the waiter walked away I flipped the menu back and forth, pretending to focus, but my mind wandered — caught somewhere between the buzz of the city and the hum of my own thoughts.

That’s when I saw it.

A small child darted into the street, chasing a red ball.

Across the road, a truck was speeding—too fast. Way too fast.

Time slowed.

My brain screamed, "Move!" but the rest of the world was stuck. The waiter froze. Families near the window gasped. No one moved. No one reacted.

Except me.

I shot up from my seat. The chair clattered to the floor behind me, but I didn’t stop. My legs were moving before I even registered the motion.

My heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears.

The ball bounced once. Twice.

The child reached for it.

The truck’s horn blared — a deafening HOOOOOOONK!

I lunged.

My hand grasped the child’s arm just as the truck’s headlights engulfed us.

One second, two bodies.

The next —

Impact. Light. Noise. Silence.

Everything blurred.

My vision flooded white.

Voices. Screams. Then…

Nothing.

[Author’s Note]

Lan Zhan is the kind of character who moves through the story with an almost ethereal presence. Imagine someone tall and slender, with sharp, elegant features that catch the eye without effort. His eyes are clear and intense, as if he’s quietly absorbing everything around him—like he’s always one step ahead.

His dark hair frames his face with a graceful flow, adding to that almost otherworldly vibe, like he’s both part of this world and just a little beyond it.

Personality-wise? Calm, composed, and quietly strong. He doesn’t need to shout to make his presence known. Instead, there’s a steady power in how he carries himself—like a calm in the middle of a storm.

He’s mysterious but deeply loyal, and when he speaks, you listen.

But here’s the twist — our main character doesn’t even realize that about him yet.

© Distinct-unique_bird 2025

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This story is a piece of me—crafted with care, thought, and truth.

Please do not copy, repost, translate, or adapt any part of it without permission.

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