**Chapter 1: The Return**

The train chugged along the winding tracks, its wheels clattering a rhythm that seemed to sync with Li Mei's heartbeat. She sat by the window, fingers brushing the cool glass as fog-cloaked mountains and rice paddies blurred past. The world outside was a watercolor wash of greens and grays, the early spring rain softening every edge.

Lushan.

The name sat heavy on her tongue, both familiar and foreign. Her parents had rarely spoken of this place, and whenever they did, it was with a tightness in their voices and quick glances that made Mei's chest ache with a strange, hollow feeling.

She didn't understand why she had to come back. It wasn't obligation—her parents had long since moved to Shanghai, their lives woven into the bustling rhythm of the city. But something had tugged at her, a gentle but unyielding pull. She had dreamed of riverbanks and cherry blossoms, of a stone bridge arching over still waters, and of laughter—soft and warm—fading as if carried away by the wind.

Mei's suitcase thudded against her knee as the train lurched, snapping her back to the present. She stood, legs wobbly from the long ride, and shuffled into the narrow aisle with the other passengers. The train slowed, steam hissing as it pulled into the small station.

Lushan's platform was slick with rain, its stone tiles worn smooth by decades of travelers. A cluster of vendors huddled beneath bright umbrellas, the air thick with the scent of roasted chestnuts and sweet, sticky rice cakes. Mei inhaled, and the taste of nostalgia swept over her, sharp and sudden.

She stepped down, the soft drizzle beading on her jacket, and took a hesitant breath. The town unfolded before her, its narrow streets winding through clusters of traditional tiled-roof houses. Red lanterns hung from doorways, their paper wet and translucent. Somewhere, wind chimes tinkled, a melody that seemed to come from another lifetime.

Mei pulled her coat tighter, the chill seeping through to her bones. Her hotel was only a short walk away, tucked near the river where willow branches dipped into the water like calligraphy brushes. She forced her feet forward, each step tentative, as if the ground beneath her might shift and swallow her whole.

She didn't notice him at first. He stood beneath the awning of a small teahouse, his hands shoved into his pockets, dark hair damp from the rain. His gaze was fixed on her, unblinking.

When their eyes met, a tremor ran through her. She didn't know his name, but the curve of his jaw, the way his shoulders hunched ever so slightly, sent a shock of familiarity through her.

She should have looked away. But she couldn't.

And neither did he.

For a moment, the world around them ceased its murmur—the vendors' calls, the splash of rain, the hum of passing bicycles—all of it quieted.

Then, as if a thread had snapped, the moment unraveled. Mei turned, her feet finding the stone path, and hurried away. She told herself it was only a stranger. Only a town that she had not seen since childhood.

But as she reached her hotel and pushed open the door, her hands trembled. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice whispered.

*You promised you would come back.*