The rain had eased since morning,
yet the air was still thick with dampness.
I slung Grandpa's old backpack over my shoulder,
held the worn, creased map in my hand, and stepped outside.
The stone path still glistened with the sheen of last night's rain.
Kneeling under the eaves, I unfolded the map.
Aside from the main streets of the town,
there were many tiny colored marks—blue, red, yellow...
Next to a blue circle, nearly blurred by water stains,
a faint word could just be made out: "Chèyǔ Pavilion."
"Chè... yǔ pavilion?"
I whispered, the sound swallowed by mist.
For some reason, the name sent a subtle tremor through me.
My fingertip traced the faint ink.
Then I decided—
I'll go there.
"The blue circle… it's this way."
I confirmed the direction and took the trail toward the back mountain.
The mountain air was crisp and cool,
carrying the scent of earth and moss.
Pebbles crunched beneath my shoes, half-muted by the rain.
The world was so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat.
The higher I climbed, the thicker the fog became—
until a faint sound of rushing water reached my ears.
That wasn't rain.
It was a waterfall.
When I looked up, I froze.
Mist curled around the mountainside,
and beside the white curtain of falling water stood an old pavilion.
Its roof tiles had faded with time,
and faint characters were carved into the wooden beam—
"Chèyǔ Pavilion."
Water cascaded from the cliff, scattering droplets like shards of light.
And within that weave of mist and glow—
someone was dancing.
Barefoot on the damp moss,
his thin garments were so pale they almost dissolved into the fog.
Every turn, every lift of his arm,
moved perfectly in rhythm with the water's fall,
as if the entire rain itself was his accompaniment.
I forgot to breathe.
For that one moment, the world seemed utterly still—
only he was alive within the rain.
"Is that… a person?"
I murmured softly—
and the next second, my foot slipped.
"Ah—ah—ahhh!"
I tumbled down the slope,
landing with a heavy thud that made stars burst behind my eyes.
"Ow… ow ow ow…"
Before I could recover,
a pale hand suddenly appeared before my face.
Long fingers, drops of water clinging to their tips.
He reached out, voice gentle as wind.
"Are you hurt?"
I looked up—
and found myself staring into a face far too close to be real.
It was a face neither wholly male nor female—
skin fair as snow,
eyes an almost translucent blue,
features so fine they seemed sculpted from mist itself.
If not for the faint movement of his Adam's apple,
I might've believed he was a girl.
I just… stared.
That unreal beauty froze me in place.
He frowned slightly, brushing his fingers against my forehead.
"You feel warm. Did you hit your head? Let me see—"
His touch was impossibly soft.
At that instant, my mind went blank,
heart thudding wildly—
and before I could stop myself, I blurted out:
"You're… beautiful."
Silence.
The air froze.
He blinked—once, twice—
then his eyes widened,
and a flush rushed over his cheeks like spilled color.
"W–What??"
"W–Why are you suddenly saying something like that?!"
His voice shot up an octave,
his ears turning a faint shade of pink.
I froze too. Great, Yu Sheng, nice going!
"I—I didn't mean it like that—"
"Then what did you mean?!"
"I mean—you just look really, um, different—beautiful in a… unique way—"
He groaned, covering his face with both hands.
"Ahhhh! Who says things like that right after falling down a hill?!"
His embarrassment was almost comical—
and somehow, endearing.
I lowered my head, murmuring, "Sorry. I didn't mean to make it weird."
He glanced back at me,
and the corners of his lips curved slightly.
"You're a strange one," he said softly.
Then, after a brief pause—
"My name's Ling Xun."
The rain began again.
We stood there, facing each other,
his smile light as the wind brushing across the rain's surface.
Raindrops slid down his hair,
catching faint glimmers of light.
Then he tugged my arm gently.
"Come on. Let's get out of the rain."
We ran into the pavilion together.
He leaned against one of the wooden pillars, eyes half-closed,
listening to the raindrops tapping on the old roof.
I just watched him—
his profile, his lashes, the quiet stillness that didn't seem quite human.
And somewhere inside me,
a single thought rose, unbidden:
> Is he… really human?