Chapter 1 – First Light
Amid the morning mist that hung gently over the hills of Yunboa Village, the first cry of a newborn pierced the silence. The usually dim sky turned silver, as if nature itself was welcoming his birth.
"His name… will be Lawzi Zienxi," said his mother, Quim Zunxi, her voice soft yet filled with certainty.
Beside her, his father, Lawzi Jeu, held her hand and gazed at the tiny baby as though holding an unspoken prayer in his eyes.
"May you grow in peace. And if the world should test you… may you be strong enough to endure."
Years passed…
Lawzi Zienxi grew into a boy full of energy and curiosity. He loved asking about small things: why the sky changed color at dusk, why fish leapt from the river, and why the sound of insects never ceased at night.
Yunboa Village was a place where every day felt like an adventure.
With his cousin, Lawzi Vuyei, he would explore meadows, play in the river, make bamboo boats, and race to catch dragonflies in the fields. More often than not, they ended up slipping into the mud, laughing, and then getting scolded by their mothers when they came home covered in dirt.
But of all their activities, Zienxi's favorite days were when they went fishing with his father and uncle.
One morning…
The mist had yet to fully lift from the small lake at the edge of the forest.
Lawzi Jeu walked ahead, carrying a spear and a basket of bait. Beside him, Lawzi Kunren balanced two large bamboo rods on his shoulder, a small cigarette between his lips and a wide grin on his face.
"Don't talk too loud," Kunren whispered. "The fish here are easily offended."
Zienxi chuckled. "Just like Vuyei when you wake him up early."
Vuyei lightly punched his cousin's arm and pouted. But soon, their smiles returned.
Once they had set their rods into the ground and watched the floats bob gently on the water's surface, time seemed to slow.
"Father, why do we have to stay quiet when fishing?" Zienxi asked.
Lawzi Jeu replied while tying a fishing line,
"Because the water has ears. And silence teaches you to listen, not just to speak."
That night, they gathered in the yard.
The fish they caught were grilled over a campfire, sending a delicious aroma wafting through the village. Laughter rang out as Kunren told stories of his youth—of how he acted tough but was always turned down by village girls. Vuyei laughed so hard he nearly choked, and Zienxi patted his back, laughing along.
Tsai Mianzu, Vuyei's mother, came out with a pot of soup made from forest mushrooms and sweet roots. She sat beside Quim Zunxi, chatting softly with the occasional gentle laugh.
That night felt complete.
Nothing seemed more important than the time they shared together. No one knew that these simple moments would one day become their most treasured memories.
A few weeks later…
Lawzi Kunren took them hunting deer in the northern forest, Zienxi's first time holding a small bow he had made himself.
"It's not about killing," Kunren said firmly. "It's about respecting life. We take only what we need, and never grow arrogant if we succeed."
They returned empty-handed that day, but Zienxi felt content. He learned to track footprints, read the wind's direction, and hold his breath while drawing a bow. But what he enjoyed most was walking side by side with his father and uncle, listening to their youthful stories—some of which sounded too ridiculous to be true.
Under the full moon, Zienxi and Vuyei sat on the rooftop, gazing at the stars.
"If you could be anything in this world," Vuyei asked, "what would you be?"
Zienxi paused for a moment, then answered honestly,
"I want to be someone who can protect everyone I love."
Vuyei smiled and held his hand. "Then I'll be a healer, so I can help you keep standing."
And under that calm night sky, they believed the world would always be like this warm, full of laughter, untouched by darkness.
For now.
The next morning, the first light of day had just touched the treetops as Zienxi and Vuyei walked side by side toward the northern hills.
They carried small rattan baskets and rice balls prepared by Quim Zunxi before the sun had fully risen. Their goal was simple: to find wildflowers that bloomed only in the morning—a kind that, it was said, would glow faintly when touched by dew.
"They're called lumira flowers," Vuyei said excitedly, pointing at a picture in the old book she carried. "If we find a purple one, it's a sign of good luck!"
Zienxi chuckled, "Will I get a sword technique scroll just because of a purple flower?"
Vuyei stuck out her tongue. "No! But maybe you won't fall next time you climb a tree."
Their path wound along a rocky trail lined with tiny blooming shrubs. The scent of wet earth and pine leaves refreshed their lungs. Small birds sang among the branches, and the breeze carried the sound of running water from afar.
When they reached the hillside, they found a field of bluish-purple wildflowers glowing softly in the morning light. Vuyei ran ahead, her voice bright with excitement.
Zienxi smiled, plucked a nearly wilted flower, and tucked it behind his cousin's ear.
"Perfect for a forest sorceress," he teased.
Vuyei gave him a gentle push, her cheeks flushed pink.
They sat on a large rock, enjoying their meal while watching clouds drift slowly above the valley. In that quiet moment, Zienxi sketched the scenery in his small notebook, while Vuyei wrote down the names of the flowers they had found.
No one disturbed them.
No one knew that one day, this happiness would be remembered like a dream too beautiful to last.