Wu Qing was still on her knees, Dazed...
upon hearing the sound of cracking.
She looked down at the egg, thinking it would hatch...
She stared at it ...
But, nothing happened...
The faint hum of morning life seeped into the silence. Traffic, and neighbors chattering in the hallway.
Snowy and Misty padded around her feet, meowing impatiently.
She rose slowly without a sigh, placing the egg carefully back on the table. Her bare feet touched the cold floor as she stood quietly.
The place she lived in is a compact apartment on the twelfth floor of a high-rise, tucked between the endless buildings of concrete and glass that make up the city skyline. Her apartment wasn't so small, yet neat. It's just an ordinary home of the twenty-first century. Even though it doesn't match a high-grade apartment in 2026.
She simply bent down, picked up their bowls, and filled them with food.
Snowy immediately dug in.
Misty sniffed first, then ate with delicate bites, glancing up at her as if checking she wasn't upset anymore.
Even though her face doesn't show any emotions., yet the cats can know about her feelings. Maybe that's why people said, animals can read our faces.
When the cats settled, she turned and stepped into another room (study).
It was different. The air itself felt heavier, as if time slowed the moment she entered. Shelves lined with ancient scrolls and worn books surrounded her.
She sat on the chair before her desk. Her fingers brushed against a leather-bound book— a diary.
For a moment, she hesitated. Then she opened it.
She picked up a pen and began to write.
Master,
It's been a long time since I last wrote to you. Today, I had the same dream again. But this time, it was longer. I even felt something... Like a strange ache that I didn't feel. I think it was the emotion called pain. Maybe I'm getting closer to the answer or am I just hallucinating?
And there was something new. I saw a demon in a dragon's form. I don't understand it yet, but it felt... Familiar.
Everything else is the same. The only thing that hasn't changed is the egg. It still hasn't hatched. It's been twenty years, and it remains exactly the same. Sorry, Its just had a little crack... I thought it was going to be hatched. But, it hasn't. Maybe soon...
Its been 8 years since you left. The world has changed so much. Now, there is something called AI...
Its progress is astonishing. It was like, capable of turning lies into an unbelievable truth. And creating worlds where people live inside fantasy world with fictional characters. I think I've had to learn so much from this perspective. Even though I'm not someone who fits in this modern era, as well as the Gen Z era.
Ah, and one more thing, I received the interview letter. The interview will be today.
I thought of getting some friends to know about the outer world and I've practiced how to smile better than that time. Don't know how they will receive it. But, I think it's time to get some loyal friends to believe.
So you can rest assured, Master.
—Wu Qing.
She paused, her gaze lingering on the last line before setting the pen down.
Reaching for a pencil, she began to sketch quietly. Her hand moved with graceful precision.
A dragon took shape— its body long and coiling, scales shining faintly in her drawing. Broken chains wrapped around it, and beside its form, she drew a woman lying on the ground, her robes flowing like mist while drenched in blood.
As she finished the drawing, she looked at it for a long moment.
Without a flicker of hesitation, she tore the written page from the diary.
The paper made a soft shhhhh sound as it separated, floating lightly between her fingers.
Then, she began to fold it in an old-fashioned way.
She folded the paper lengthwise into even parts, pressing each crease gently with her fingertips.
Then she folded the two ends inward, tucking the corners neatly so the paper formed a thin, rectangular packet.
It was the kind of fold used for words meant to be carried by smoke.
She placed the folded packet beneath the diary.
Then she rose, leaving the study and returning to her room to freshen up.
Her movements were still silent without any emotion on her face.
Afterward, she chose a modern outfit inspired by ancient Chinese style from her closet— a soft, flowing blue mamiam skirt paired with a simple modern ru-style top, its design subtly reminiscent of hanfu.
A quiet blend of past and present.
Later, she gathered her long black hair, smoothing it back with practiced ease. The upper half was twisted into a small half-up bun at the back of her head, secured neatly, while the rest of her hair flowed freely down her back like dark silk.
She doesn't wear any ornaments.
When she was done, she returned to the study, retrieved the folded paper, and walked into another room.
It was a small room, and on the wall hung a framed photo.
A man— early forties, perhaps.
Straight posture, gentle eyes, glasses perched neatly on his nose.
He looked like a scholar, someone who belonged to books, scrolls, and quiet wisdom.
She placed the folded letter beside a small bronze holder and lit a thin stick of incense. The smoke curled upward in spirals.
She bowed to that man— once, twice, and thirdly.
Then, she knelt and took out a candle from a wooden box.
She lit it, the flame trembling softly beside the incense.
Then she lifted the folded paper and held it over the candle flame.
The flame touched the edge of the paper.
Closing her eyes, she began to chant.
"Wind, guide the path.
Spirit fire carries these words.
May this message travel with light."
When she finished, she whispered the final line, barely audible:
"May these words reach my master."
The folded message dissolved into ash, falling softly into the small brass bowl beneath it.
When the last ember faded, only fine gray ash remained.
She stared at it for a moment, unreadable as ever, then rose silently from the floor.
She slipped on her heels, slung a muted-toned handbag with faint traditional patterns over her shoulder, and glanced back at her two cats.
"Be good, and don't play with the egg. Okay?"
Snowy and Misty exchanged looks— as if silently signaling each other with conspiracy.
When Wu Qing stepped outside of that long building, the world greeted her with a quiet, breathtaking beauty.
Morning light spilled across the sky in soft gold. A pair of white cranes glided overhead, wings cutting gracefully through the air.
The breeze was cool and fragrant, carrying the scent of fresh blossoms.
The streets were calm, washed in the gentle glow of dawn.
But then—
A loud engine roared.
A bus rattled past, throwing dust into the air. Delivery bikes cut through traffic, someone yelled for a taxi, and neon signs flickered awake on tall glass buildings.
Wu Qing blinked, then exhaled with a little sigh without having any changes in her features.
"...hhaa."
She adjusted her bag and whispered to herself,
"It was only in my dreams... When will I ever get to see a world like that for real?"
Suddenly, her phone buzzed...
An email popped up on the screen,
Dear Ms. Wu Qing,
This is a gentle reminder regarding your scheduled interview with Soul Vault Antiquities today at 10:00 Am.
We look forward to meeting you and discussing your application.
Please ensure you arrive on time.
Kind regards,
Soul Vault Antiquities — Recruitment Team.
Fingers tightened on the strap like a ghost of ache.
She drew a quiet breath and quickened her steps towards the zebra crossing, traffic humming steadily around her.
As she was crossing, a man walked straight towards her.
A caramel colored overcoat swayed around him, and his long silver-gray hair was tied in a loose half-up ponytail, several strands slipping free to veil the side of his face.
He wore a mask.
A plain one, covering his facial features except his eyes.
Naturally, their eyes met...
The world around them blurred into the corner— vehicles hushed, footsteps faded to silence around her. His gaze held hers, like a dream bleeding into reality.
The stillness thrummed with unnatural silence.
"She is... ?" The man whispered in his mind.
His eyes were cold and distant.
Yet beneath that coldness lies something heavy, something buried so deep that it can't be defined by words. Like a weight that did not belong to the present.
She couldn't feel it.
But, she understood it upon reading his eyes.
And then—
A sharp vibration brushed her wrist.
Her smartwatch lit up and showed her rising heart rate.
The numbers climbed quietly, without warning...
As she crossed, time snapped back.
She blinked and looked around, swallowed by the crowd.
She took off her watch and murmured to herself,
"Am I getting sick again?"