Chapter 1: A New Beginning

Darkness. Silence. An endless void stretched infinitely, swallowing all thoughts, all memories, all sense of self. There was no fear, no pain, no sorrow—only nothingness.

Then, a spark.

A single ember of awareness flickered into existence. It was faint, fragile, a whisper of something that once was but had long since been forgotten. The ember floated in the abyss, adrift in a sea of oblivion. It did not know who it was or what it had been. There was only the presence of itself, small and insignificant, yet undeniably real.

The ember grew. Slowly, warmth seeped in, spreading like ripples across still water. The sensation was strange—comforting yet overwhelming. Something beat in the distance, steady and rhythmic, like the gentle echo of a drum. It was soothing, an anchor in the void. The warmth cradled the ember, enveloping it in something familiar yet unfamiliar, something safe.

Then came the sounds. Muffled at first, a world beyond the darkness. Voices, indistinct and blurred, yet filled with emotion. Words were spoken, though their meaning remained elusive. A heartbeat—strong, steady. A lullaby hummed in a quiet, loving voice. The ember did not understand, but it felt something stir deep within, something foreign and strange—a sense of belonging.

Time passed, though it had no concept of time. The darkness no longer felt endless. There was movement, sensations both comforting and confining. The warmth that surrounded the ember became a cocoon, a sanctuary.

Then came the pain.

A sudden force pushed and pulled, dragging it away from the safety of the cocoon. The ember resisted, instinct screaming to stay, to cling to the warmth. But the force was relentless, stronger than anything it had ever known. A sharp pressure crushed down, squeezing, forcing, expelling. Panic rose, though the ember did not know why.

The warmth was fading.

Then—light.

Blinding. Harsh. Overwhelming. The ember flinched, recoiling as the darkness was torn away. Sound rushed in, no longer muffled but loud, chaotic. Something cold touched its skin—a foreign sensation, unfamiliar and jarring. The ember gasped—its first breath. Air flooded its tiny lungs, burning like fire. It hurt. Everything hurt.

A cry escaped, raw and desperate. The sound startled even itself, high-pitched and weak. But it was real. It was alive.

Voices. A woman's voice—soft, breathless, filled with exhaustion and relief. The sound wrapped around the ember like the warmth it had lost. It did not understand the words, but it felt them deep in its core. A presence, trembling yet steady, lifted it into an embrace. A new warmth—different from before, but no less comforting.

The ember was no longer just an ember.

It was a child.

The woman's arms held the child close, her voice a whisper, a prayer, a promise. The scent of her—faintly floral, tinged with sweat and exhaustion—was intoxicating, soothing. The child, still gasping, still crying, instinctively curled into the warmth, seeking comfort, seeking safety.

The woman wept. Her tears fell onto the child's soft skin, warm like summer rain. Her hands, calloused and worn, trembled as they stroked the child's tiny cheek. Her voice, choked yet full of unshakable love, murmured words that the child did not understand.

But then, one word stood out.

A name.

"Xu Lian."

The woman's voice cracked as she spoke, as if the name carried the weight of the world. She cradled the child—her child—closer, as though afraid that this fragile existence would slip away.

"Xu Lian," she whispered again, her lips pressing against the child's forehead. "My lotus… My precious little girl."

The child did not understand the meaning, nor did she understand the depth of love in that moment. But she felt it. The warmth, the safety, the certainty that she belonged to this woman, to this world.

And so, the ember that had drifted in the void, lost and nameless, became Xu Lian.

A new beginning had begun.

The soft laughter of children filled the air, mingling with the distant hum of cicadas in the warm summer afternoon. The park was small but lively, a hidden oasis within the worn-down streets of the neighborhood. Tall trees cast dappled shadows over the cracked pavement, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. The playground itself was old—its paint faded, the swing set slightly rusted—but to Xu Lian, it was a wonderland.

At five years old, she was a small, wiry thing, her long dark hair barely tamed into a ponytail. Her clothes were hand-me-downs, slightly loose on her tiny frame, but she didn't mind. The world was vast and exciting, and every day was another adventure. Her mother had taken her here many times before, usually on weekends when she had a rare moment to spare from work. But today, Xu Lian was alone, her mother resting on a nearby bench, watching her with weary but fond eyes.

Xu Lian ran barefoot across the warm sand, her small hands clinging to the ropes of the climbing frame. The rough fibers scratched her palms, but she was determined, her dark eyes shining with stubborn focus as she pulled herself higher. From the top, she could see everything—the tiny pond at the edge of the park, the other children playing, the old man feeding pigeons beneath the biggest tree. And then, she saw her.

A girl stood alone near the swings, her white dress pristine and untouched by the dust that covered the other children. She was beautiful, even in childhood, with long, wavy black hair that fell past her shoulders and a delicate face framed by soft bangs. Her shoes were polished, her hands clasped neatly in front of her as she watched the other children play with a quiet, unreadable expression. She didn't move toward them, didn't call out. She simply observed, as if she did not belong.

Xu Lian tilted her head, curiosity bubbling inside her. Something about the girl was different—not just her appearance, but the way she stood, as though she were a painting instead of a real person. Without hesitation, Xu Lian climbed down and ran toward her, her bare feet kicking up little clouds of dust.

"Hey!" she called, coming to a stop just a few steps away. "Why aren't you playing?"

The girl blinked, startled. Up close, Xu Lian could see the subtle silver-blue hue in her eyes, a color she had never seen before. The girl hesitated, as if she wasn't sure how to answer.

"I don't know," she finally said, her voice soft and careful. "I've never played here before."

Xu Lian frowned. "That's silly. You just… play!" She spread her arms wide as if to demonstrate. "You run around, climb stuff, go on the swings! It's fun."

The girl glanced at the swing beside her, her hands tightening slightly. "I don't know how," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Xu Lian's eyes widened. "Really?"

The girl nodded, her expression unreadable. Something about it made Xu Lian's chest tighten. She didn't quite understand the feeling, but she didn't like it. It reminded her of the times when she woke up late at night and saw her mother sitting by the window, staring out into the dark, looking so very tired and so very alone.

Without thinking, Xu Lian grabbed the girl's hand. "I'll show you!"

The girl stiffened at the contact, her eyes widening in surprise. But she didn't pull away.

Xu Lian beamed. "Come on!"

She dragged the girl toward the swings, her tiny fingers gripping tightly. The girl followed, her steps hesitant but unresisting. When they reached the swings, Xu Lian let go and patted the seat. "Sit here."

The girl hesitated, then carefully lowered herself onto the swing, her movements elegant despite her uncertainty. Xu Lian positioned herself behind her, hands gripping the chains.

"Now hold on tight! I'm gonna push you."

The girl did as she was told, her small hands wrapping around the cold metal. Xu Lian took a deep breath, planted her feet, and pushed. At first, it was only a small nudge, barely enough to make the swing move. But with each push, the girl's feet lifted higher, her hair catching the sunlight in delicate waves.

Then, something magical happened.

A sound—soft at first, like the tinkling of a wind chime. It took Xu Lian a moment to realize what it was.

The girl was laughing.

It was quiet, hesitant, as if she had never laughed like this before. But it was real. And it was beautiful.

Xu Lian grinned. "See? It's fun, right?"

The girl nodded, her cheeks slightly pink from the wind. "It is."

Xu Lian stepped back, hands on her hips, proud of herself. "Told you! Oh, I'm Xu Lian, by the way."

The girl blinked, as if startled by the sudden introduction. Then, after a moment's pause, she smiled—a small, genuine smile that transformed her entire face.

"My name is Lin Yiran."

Xu Lian didn't know why, but she felt like she had just heard something important, something she would remember forever.