The early morning light began to stretch its fingers across the sky, casting a gentle glow over the landscape. The sun had not yet fully risen, but the horizon was painted with hues of soft pink and orange, heralding the new day. The air was cool and crisp, filled with the symphony of cicadas and crickets, their persistent chorus the only sound breaking the stillness.
Yan Jin stood silently on the riverbank, the murmur of the flowing water mingling with the whispers of the wind through the trees. He was a tall, skinny boy, his frame more angular and gaunt than it should have been for his fourteen years. His young face, though marred with the dirt and grime of hardship, still held a trace of the softness of youth.
Long black hair fell around his face in unkempt strands, partially obscuring the worn ribbon tied around his eyes, covering the empty sockets that once held the light of his sight.
His clothes were coarse and dirty, the fabric a dull gray, frayed at the edges from constant wear. Despite his disheveled appearance, there was a quiet dignity in the way he stood, his posture straight, his head slightly tilted as if listening to the world around him. His skin, pale and smudged with dirt, bore the signs of a life lived in struggle and survival.
His hand, calloused and weathered, traced the worn inscriptions on his uncle's tombstone, the stone cold and rough beneath his fingers. The tmb had been neglected over the years, overgrown with weeds and the inscriptions barely legible. Yan Jin's memories flooded back to him, the echoes of his childhood spent with his uncle before the incident that changed everything.
Yan Jin's journey had begun in a different world altogether. In his past life, Yan Jin had been renowned as a skilled and disciplined archer, known for his remarkable precision and accuracy with a bow. He hailed from a distant land, where he had trained tirelessly from a young age to master the art of archery.
His life revolved around his craft, and he had earned recognition and respect among his peers.
As a professional archer, Yan Jin had traveled far and wide, competing in tournaments and demonstrations, showcasing his extraordinary talent to audiences across the land. His bow was his most prized possession, a finely crafted instrument that he treated with the utmost care and reverence.
But Yan Jin's career as an archer came to an abrupt end when he suffered a debilitating shoulder injury during a fateful expedition. Despite his best efforts to rehabilitate and recover, the injury proved to be too severe, forcing him to retire from the sport he loved.
In the chaos that followed, his uncle scooped up the injured Yan Jin, clutching him tightly against his chest. They fled into the night, their footsteps echoing through the forest as they ran for their lives. Yan Jin clung to his uncle's neck, his heart pounding in fear and pain. Each step sent waves of agony through his body, but his uncle pressed on, his determination unwavering.
They reached the edge of a cliff, the sounds of pursuit close behind. With no other option, his uncle lowered Yan Jin down the steep, rocky slope, using his own body to shield the boy from the fall. They landed hard, the impact jolting through them both, but his uncle quickly regained his footing, lifting Yan Jin once more as they continued their desperate flight.
Eventually, they stumbled upon a small, secluded creek village, hidden deep in the forest. The villagers, seeing the state they were in, took them in and tended to their wounds. Yan Jin's eyes were beyond saving, the molten metal having irreparably damaged them. His uncle, too, had sustained grievous injuries. He lay in a small hut, his breaths shallow and labored.
"Yan Jin," his uncle whispered, his voice weak. "You must be strong. Live for me. Remember, you are my greatest pride."
Tears streamed down Yan Jin's face as he held his uncle's hand. "I promise, Uncle. I will honor your memory. I will survive." With a final, shuddering breath, his uncle passed away, leaving Yan Jin alone in the world. The villagers helped him as much as they could, but the boy had to learn to navigate his new reality on his own.
Every day since his uncle's death, Yan Jin had made this pilgrimage to the tomb. It was a ritual he had begun as a child, driven by a need to honor the man who had meant so much to him. He would stand by the tomb, recounting his memories and sharing his thoughts as if his uncle could still hear him.
It was his way of keeping the connection alive, of seeking solace in the presence of the one person who had truly protected him.
"Uncle," Yan Jin whispered, his voice barely more than a breath, "it's been ten years. Ten long years since you left me. I still remember your stories, your laughter. I remember how you taught me to be strong, even when everything seemed hopeless."
He paused, the words catching in his throat. "I remember the night we fled, how you carried me on your shoulders one last time. I remember the sacrifice you made. I promise you, I will honor your memory. I will survive." The wind picked up, rustling the leaves around him. Yan Jin felt a familiar ache in his chest, a mix of longing and sorrow, a sense of loss that had never fully healed.