The room was a vacuum, as if the world outside had ceased to exist. Moonlight spilled through the window, a gentle, silver caress upon the still form on the bed.
Xu Yianzi's eyes opened. There was no surprise in them. No curiosity. It was the simple, mechanical act of waking... to endure another day.
He moved with the weight of a ghost, pushing himself to the edge of the bed. His back was a question mark, his shoulders slumped with a spirit worn thin. For a long time, he sat in silence... a statue carved from apathy.
Then, his gaze drifted. Aimless. It settled on the window. Not for the light. Not for the breeze. But because something pulled his eyes that way. He stared through the glass into the empty night...
...but in the heart of another, a universe trembled.
On the far side of that dream-window, Zen stood, a figure of shadow and intent. He watched the boy bathed in moonlight.
And in that sliver of a moment... Xu Yianzi's eyes met his.
It wasn't a meeting of gazes. It was a collision of souls.
Not a shape. Not a sound. Not a thing the eye could perceive. But deep in Zen's chest, a certainty whispered into being.
He was no longer alone.
A tremor ran through Zen's very being. His heart hammered against his ribs, not from fear, but from the raw, explosive power of confirmation.
He can see me...?
Xu Yianzi didn't move. His eyes remained vacant. But for Zen, this was the first time. The first time those eyes had ever looked his way. A fragile, unintentional bridge had been formed. It was real.
Zen's lips parted, a whisper escaping, so soft he feared it would shatter the moment.
"...Can you hear my voice...?"
A jolt shot through Xu Yianzi! He scrambled back, pressing himself against the far side of the bed. "Who's there!? Whose voice is that!?"
He darted his eyes around the room, frantic. There was nothing. Only the chilling emptiness and the frantic beating of his own heart.
"You... you can't see me..." the voice from the void breathed again.
"Who are you..." Xu Yianzi whispered. "Why... why can I hear you?"
"I don't know either." "I just... wanted to help."
The voice was gentle, not demanding. It was the voice of someone... who had been lingering here for a very, very long time.
Xu Yianzi's defense began to crumble. He slowly sat down, staring at the empty space before him, and spoke to the silence. "What is your name?"
"My name is... Ze—"
The sound died. Snatched from the air. As if the world itself rejected the name, snuffing it out before it could fully form.
"I didn't hear..." Xu Yianzi's brow furrowed. "Why...? Could it be..."
He glanced at the window again, whispering to himself. "Are you... a soul fragment? From someone immensely powerful...?" "Someone who died... but whose spirit never left this world...?"
Zen paused, then spoke again, his voice firm with purpose.
"I have wanted to speak with you... for a long time." "I tried, again and again... but you never felt me, never heard me..."
He looked down, a faint smile touching his lips. "But tonight... I finally broke through."
Xu Yianzi was quiet. He felt a gentle pressure in his chest, a warmth he couldn't name. He still didn't understand, but for the first time in a long time, he felt... something.
"...Why have you come..." he asked, his voice barely a breath.
Zen did not hesitate. His voice rose, clearer and stronger than ever before.
"To tell you that you are no longer alone."
...That night, Xu Yianzi remained on the edge of his bed, saying nothing more. But in the depths of his eyes, a tiny spark reflected the moonlight.
As if... his heart... was beginning to beat again.