Chapter Text
The sky was heavy with clouds, a dull sheet of gray stretching endlessly above the old courtyard. A quiet wind whispered through the branches, carrying with it the faint fragrance of blooming haitang flowers.
Beneath the weathered roof sat an old man in a worn wooden recliner. His head rested against the back of the chair, his eyes fixed on the overcast sky as though searching for something that had long since disappeared.
The haitang tree swayed gently in the wind.
Scarlet petals drifted through the air, dancing gracefully before settling upon the stone path.
One petal floated toward him.
Slowly, he lifted a trembling hand.
His fingers caught it just before it touched the ground.
He closed his hand around the delicate blossom, holding it with surprising care.
A faint smile appeared on his weathered face.
After a long, quiet breath, his eyelids slowly lowered.
This time...
They did not open again.
The red petal slipped from his hand and fell silently onto his lap.
By afternoon, the first snow began to fall.
It settled across the courtyard, upon the old chair, and beneath the blooming haitang tree as though winter had arrived only to bid him farewell.
One of his disciples hurried outside with a thick fur blanket.
"Master?"
No answer.
He called again, louder this time.
Still nothing.
Only then did he notice the peaceful expression resting upon the old man's face.
The blanket slipped from his trembling hands.
The young disciple covered his mouth, but the tears came anyway.
From that day onward, the wooden chair beneath the eaves remained empty.
No one ever sat there again.
The funeral was quiet.
There were no grand ceremonies.
No crowds.
Only a handful of disciples, old friends, and those who still remembered the man known as Zhang Hailou.
He was buried beneath the very same haitang tree that had watched the seasons pass with him for so many years.
Someone once promised him a magnificent funeral.
That promise was never broken.
It simply arrived too late.
Because the only person who had ever intended to fulfill it...
Had left long before him.
The wind carried another crimson petal through the air.
It landed softly upon the fresh earth.
Then winter covered everything in silence.
Time continued to move forward.
The South Archives welcomed a new chairman, then another after him. As the years passed, the organization gradually faded into obscurity, retreating further into the shadows while the world outside changed beyond recognition.
Steel replaced wood.
Paper became screens.
People no longer searched for answers in old legends or whispered folktales. They trusted laboratories over temples, evidence over superstition, science over mystery.
The Zhang Clan slowly became nothing more than a name buried in forgotten archives.
To some, it was an old legend.
To others, merely another fictional tale passed down through generations.
Most people simply stopped caring.
Thirty-three years had passed since Zhang Hailou died.
The city had grown taller.
Faster.
Louder.
Glass towers stood where old streets had once been, and the quiet rhythm of history had long since been drowned beneath the noise of traffic and neon lights.
On a pleasant autumn afternoon, music drifted through the open window of a small apartment.
A young university student lay sprawled across his sofa, one arm hanging lazily over the edge while a vinyl record spun steadily nearby. He absentmindedly hummed along to the song.
Can I take you to a moment
Where the fields are painted gold
And the trees are filled with memories
Of the feelings never told?
Today was his twentieth birthday.
His name was Zhang Haiyan.
No one knocked on his door.
No one called to wish him a happy birthday.
No messages.
No invitations.
Not that he expected any.
His parents had lived overseas for as long as he could remember. Every month, money arrived in his bank account with perfect punctuality, yet conversations between them were so infrequent that they felt more like strangers connected by paperwork than by blood.
He had long since stopped wondering whether they had forgotten him.
Perhaps he had forgotten them first.
The apartment reflected its owner perfectly.
Organized chaos.
A bed stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by stacks of books, scattered camera lenses, vinyl records, and old film photographs pinned carelessly across burgundy-colored walls. Framed paintings leaned against bookshelves instead of hanging neatly where they belonged, while the scent of coffee lingered faintly in the air.
To anyone else, it looked like a mess.
To Haiyan...
Everything was exactly where it was supposed to be.
His gaze lingered on the ceiling before drifting back toward the window, where amber leaves spiraled lazily onto the pavement below. The last note of the song faded, leaving the apartment wrapped in silence.
Haiyan ran a hand through his already messy hair and pushed himself off the sofa.
He crossed the room, opened his wardrobe, and pulled out a long dark-brown coat. After slipping it on, he grabbed his canvas bag from beside the door and stepped outside.
The crisp autumn air greeted him immediately.
The streets were already alive.
The aroma of freshly baked bread drifted from a nearby bakery, blending with the rich scent of roasted coffee beans escaping through the open doors of a small café.
An elderly woman sat quietly on a wooden bench, breaking pieces of bread into her wrinkled hands as pigeons gathered around her feet. She smiled every time another bird fluttered down beside her.
Haiyan slowed his pace for a brief moment, watching the peaceful scene before continuing on.
About five minutes later, the gates of the university came into view.
Students streamed across the campus in small groups, laughing as they hurried toward their morning lectures.
Glancing down at his watch, Haiyan absentmindedly quickened his pace.
Then—
Thud.
He walked straight into someone.
The impact was light, but enough to send a few books slipping from the other person's arms.
"Oh..."
Haiyan instinctively bent down to gather them.
"I'm sorry," he said, offering one of the books back. "I wasn't paying attention."
The other student accepted it with a small smile.
"It's alright."
Their fingers brushed.
For the briefest instant...
Everything became strangely quiet.
The chatter around them faded.
The wind seemed to stop.
An unfamiliar ache settled deep within Haiyan's chest.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Just...
An overwhelming sense of having lost something precious.
The feeling disappeared as quickly as it had come.
The other student blinked once, as though equally confused, before giving another polite smile.
"See you around."
He turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Haiyan remained standing where he was.
"...Weird."
He frowned at the empty space the stranger had left behind.
For reasons he couldn't explain...
He found himself watching until the figure vanished completely among the sea of students.
Only then did he remember he was going to be late for class.
Haiyan quickly pushed the strange feeling to the back of his mind and hurried toward his classroom. The university corridors were already crowded with students carrying stacks of books, chatting about assignments, or rushing to avoid being marked late. The echo of footsteps blended with distant laughter and the occasional slam of classroom doors.
By the time he reached the lecture hall, the professor was already writing across the whiteboard. He quietly opened the door, and the professor merely glanced at him over the rim of his glasses before gesturing toward an empty seat. Haiyan offered an apologetic smile, nodded once, and slipped into the chair without making another sound.
He pulled a thick casebook and a fountain pen from his canvas bag, intending to focus on the lecture. Unfortunately, his thoughts refused to cooperate. Every few minutes, his mind drifted back to the stranger he had bumped into outside. It had been nothing more than an ordinary accident, yet the moment their fingers brushed, something deep inside his chest had tightened so suddenly that he almost forgot to breathe. He rubbed his eyes, convinced the lingering ache would disappear if he ignored it long enough.
"Haiyan."
The professor's voice cut cleanly through his thoughts.
He lifted his head immediately.
"Would you answer Question Five for the class?"
A lazy grin appeared on Haiyan's face as he leaned back slightly in his chair. "Sure, Professor."
The professor folded his arms before reading from the slide projected onto the screen. "The police suspect a man is operating an illegal betting ring. They obtain a search warrant, but the magistrate judge accidentally signs a warrant containing the wrong address—104 Elm Street instead of 102. The officers search 104. They find no evidence of gambling. Instead, they discover an encrypted laptop containing blueprints for a planned chemical attack on the city's subway system. The homeowner argues that the warrant was invalid and moves to suppress the laptop under the Fourth Amendment. Mr. Zhang, does the evidence survive?"
Haiyan barely glanced at his notes before answering. "Yes."
The professor raised an eyebrow. "That was quick."
"The officers relied on a warrant signed by a judge," Haiyan replied calmly, absentmindedly twirling his pen between his fingers. "Under United States v. Leon, the Good Faith Exception applies. They weren't acting dishonestly or recklessly. The exclusionary rule exists to deter police misconduct, not punish clerical mistakes. Excluding evidence of a terrorist attack because of a typo wouldn't serve the purpose of the Fourth Amendment."
The professor smiled faintly. "And what about the constitutional violation?"
Haiyan rested his chin on one hand, his expression thoughtful for only a moment before his familiar grin returned.
"The violation still exists," he answered. "A mistake doesn't suddenly become lawful just because the outcome is convenient. But the remedy isn't always exclusion. Sometimes protecting society outweighs correcting an honest error."
For a brief second, the classroom fell silent.
Then the professor nodded with clear approval.
"Excellent answer."
The lecture continued for another hour before finally coming to an end. Chairs scraped across the floor as students gathered their belongings and filtered into the hallway, conversations immediately replacing the quiet concentration of the classroom. Haiyan slung his canvas bag over one shoulder and made his way toward the university library. He intended to spend the afternoon reading, though he doubted he would absorb much after the strange encounter earlier.
As he crossed the central courtyard, he stopped almost instinctively.
Autumn had transformed the campus into something almost unreal. Maple leaves drifted lazily through shafts of golden sunlight, covering the stone pathways in shades of amber and crimson. A cool breeze carried the scent of old books from the library windows along with the faint aroma of roasted coffee from a nearby café.
Without thinking, Haiyan reached into his bag and carefully pulled out his old film camera.
Photography had always calmed him. Looking through a lens somehow made the world quieter. He adjusted the focus ring.
Through the viewfinder, a young man came into focus.
He was walking slowly beneath the maple trees, accompanied by a black cat that brushed affectionately against his legs. Instead of hurrying away, the young man crouched down, gently scratching beneath the cat's chin as though greeting an old friend. Sunlight slipped through the leaves overhead, catching strands of soft brown hair until they glowed like spun gold. His smile was quiet and unguarded, carrying a warmth that seemed strangely out of place amid the bustle of the campus.
For reasons Haiyan couldn't explain, he found himself unable to lower the camera.
It felt as though he had been searching for this scene his entire life without realizing it.
His finger pressed gently against the shutter.
Click.
The crisp sound echoed softly through the courtyard.
The young man looked up.
Their eyes met across the distance.
For the briefest moment, everything else seemed to disappear—the chatter of passing students, the rustling leaves, even the breeze itself. Time slowed into an unbearable stillness as an unfamiliar ache settled once again inside Haiyan's chest.
Neither of them spoke.
Neither of them understood why they couldn't look away.
Haiyan lowered the camera with a soft cough, more to hide the strange feeling lingering in his chest than because he actually needed to. A faint smile curved at the corner of his lips as he walked toward the young man.
"I think we've already met today," he said, tilting his head slightly. "I was the one who bumped into you this morning."
Recognition flickered across the young man's face, followed by a gentle smile.
"I remember."
Haiyan extended his hand.
"I'm Zhang Haiyan. I'm majoring in Law."
The young man accepted the handshake, his grip light but warm.
"I'm Zhang Haixia," he replied. "I'm majoring in Medicine."
For a brief moment, neither of them let go.
The handshake lingered just a second longer than either of them realized, as if both were unconsciously reluctant to break the contact. When they finally pulled away, an awkward silence settled between them—not uncomfortable, but strangely familiar.
Haiyan let out a quiet laugh and slipped one hand into the pocket of his coat.
"Looks like fate wanted to make sure we introduced ourselves properly this time."
Haixia's smile deepened ever so slightly.
The black cat circled around Haiyan's feet before settling beside Haixia once again.
Haiyan looked down at the cat, then raised the old camera hanging around his neck.
"I was trying to photograph the scenery."
His gaze drifted back to Haixia.
"...Then you walked into the frame."
Haixia blinked, then smiled without saying a word.
For reasons neither of them could explain...
Neither felt like this was their first meeting.