Zihan's Side
The bus rumbled forward, old suspension creaking softly as it climbed the winding mountain road.
Inside, the air smelled faintly of dust and engine oil, mixed with the cheap floral scent from a student's shampoo. The seats were worn, fabric faded by years of use, and the windows rattled lightly whenever the road turned uneven.
Xie Zihan sat by the window in the middle row, his backpack resting at his feet, hands loosely clasped together.
He hadn't slept much.
The shadows under his eyes were faint but unmistakable, the kind left behind by a night of overthinking rather than exhaustion. His gaze was unfocused at first, fixed on the reflection in the glass—his own face layered over the moving scenery like a ghost haunting himself.
Don't meet me again.
The words he had spoken the night before echoed without mercy.
He closed his eyes briefly, jaw tightening.
Why had he said it?
He had known the answer even then—fear, pride, self-loathing wrapped together into something sharp and cruel. He had been afraid that staying near him would only hurt her, afraid that his life was too unstable, too dangerous, too small to stand beside someone like her.
Yet the emptiness left behind was worse.
The bus took a turn.
Sunlight suddenly spilled through the window.
Zihan opened his eyes.
Outside, the city had long vanished. In its place stretched layers of emerald mountains, pine trees standing tall and unbothered, their shadows overlapping like ancient guardians. Mist drifted lazily between the slopes, sunlight filtering through it in soft, broken beams.
Green.
So much green.
His chest loosened without him realizing it.
The further they traveled, the quieter his thoughts became. The endless noise in his head—regret, doubt, self-blame—began to fade, drowned out by the rhythm of the road and the vastness outside.
The mountains didn't judge.
They didn't ask why he was weak, or why he hesitated, or why he pushed away what he wanted most.
They simply existed.
A faint breeze slipped in through the cracked window, cool and clean, carrying the scent of earth and pine. Zihan leaned his forehead lightly against the glass, letting the chill seep in.
For the first time since yesterday, he breathed deeply.
So this is Qingyun Mountain…
No wonder the legends spoke of immortals and mortals crossing paths here. The place felt untouched, as if the world had forgotten to modernize it.
Behind him, students chatted excitedly—about the field trip, about photos, about myths tied to the mountain—but their voices felt distant, muffled, like sounds from another life.
Zihan wasn't listening.
He was watching a hawk circle high above the cliffs.
Free.Unburdened.
A strange calm settled over him.
Maybe coming here wasn't a bad idea, he thought.
If nothing else, this place could give him space—to think clearly, to breathe, to stop hurting for just a little while.
His fingers unconsciously brushed the strap of his backpack, where his laptop rested inside.
Mythfall.
A world of mortals and immortals, of fate and resistance.
He had created it while feeling trapped, desperate to escape reality—yet now, surrounded by mountains that felt older than fate itself, he wondered if the story had been leading him here all along.
The bus climbed higher.
The air grew thinner, colder.
Somewhere ahead, unseen and unplanned, paths were converging.
Zihan didn't know it yet—but as the greenery filled his vision and cleared his mind, destiny was already drawing closer, quiet and patient, waiting among the clouds of Qingyun Mountain.
''''''''''''''''''''''
The bus doors hissed open, letting the damp mountain air spill into the students' faces. Rain drizzled steadily over Qingyun Mountain, wrapping the slopes in a silver-gray mist. Zihan stepped down first, his black backpack slung over one shoulder, eyes scanning the winding paths ahead. The smell of wet pine and earth filled his senses, the crispness clearing the fog from his mind slightly. Beside him, Xu Feng followed, holding his own umbrella and muttering under his breath.
"Man, this rain is relentless," Xu Feng grumbled, shaking water off the brim of his hood. "I didn't sign up for a mountain hike in a monsoon."
Zihan ignored him, eyes fixed ahead. Xu Feng nudged him again, glancing at the girl approaching them—a classmate, umbrella in hand. "Hey, she's giving you… wait. Is that an umbrella? Really?"
Shen Rui's umbrella was thrust into Zihan's hands before he could fully process it. He caught it instinctively, the handle brushing against his fingers. Xu Feng blinked, eyebrows raising.
"Whoa, careful there, genius," Xu Feng said, leaning in with a teasing grin. "She's… giving it to you? That's a first. Not that I'm complaining, but do you even know how to respond to this without scaring her off?"
Zihan glanced at him, lips pressed in a neutral line. "I'll manage," he said curtly, adjusting the umbrella over his shoulder.
Xu Feng chuckled quietly, but the corners of his eyes softened as he watched Zihan, who seemed… distracted. "Yeah, 'managing,' right. You've got that thousand-yard stare again. Look, just don't say something stupid. She wants lunch, not a lecture on rain physics."
"Lunch," Zihan repeated, almost absently. "Yes."
Xu Feng patted him lightly on the back, his own umbrella now ready for use. "Alright, then. Follow me. We'll grab the rooms first; you can brood on your genius thoughts later."
As they moved toward the mountain lodge, Xu Feng kept up a steady stream of chatter, mostly to keep Zihan from sinking into his thoughts. "So, the seventh floor thing—how's your coding going? Finished Mythfall's backend yet, or are we going to be stuck here all week while you silently brood?"
"I'm done," Zihan replied, voice flat. His hand tightened slightly around the umbrella. "Mostly."
"Mostly," Xu Feng repeated, snickering.
Zihan ignored the jab, eyes tracing the winding mountain road. His mind drifted back to Shen Rui, who trailed behind them, smiling nervously but still trying to keep up. The umbrella in his hand felt oddly heavy, and Xu Feng's teasing voice barely penetrated the fog of his thoughts.
"Anyway, genius," Xu Feng continued, leaning closer as they stepped onto the stone path, "don't get any ideas about her. You ignore everyone else what about her?
Zihan just shook his head slightly, letting the umbrella rest on his shoulder. "Let's just get the rooms," he said.
Xu Feng shrugged, still grinning, muttering under his breath, "Yeah, yeah. Brooding Zihan moves like a shadow even in daylight. Must be a superpower."
And so, they entered the lodge, the smell of warm wood and cooking filling the air, while outside the rain whispered against the eaves, each drop a soft percussion against the tension slowly building between Zihan, his classmate, and the mountain itself.