ANSHAD / Xǐ Qiáng — Chapter 0: The Call Across Borders
The rain in Mumbai never really asked for permission.
It fell when it wanted, how it wanted—soft, heavy, endless. Tonight, it came down in a quiet rhythm, tapping against the window of a small, dimly lit apartment tucked between concrete buildings and flickering streetlights.
Inside, Anshad sat alone.
The room was simple. A bed pushed to the corner. A metal table with a laptop that had seen better days. A chair that creaked every time he shifted his weight. Nothing about the space felt personal. It was more like a temporary stop than a home.
His phone lit up in the darkness.
A single notification.
He stared at it for a moment before picking it up, his thumb hovering just slightly above the screen.
There were no expectations in his mind. No excitement.
Just habit.
He tapped.
Subject: Interview Invitation — Advanced Systems Division
Location: Shanghai, China
Time: 12:00 PM (Local Time)
Anshad blinked once.
Then again.
He read the message slowly, carefully, as if expecting the words to rearrange themselves into something more reasonable.
They didn't.
A tech company. Not just any company—but one based in Shanghai. A place far removed from the narrow lanes and humid nights of Mumbai. A place he had only ever seen in videos and articles.
And they were inviting him.
Not for an online test. Not for a preliminary screening.
An in-person interview.
For a moment, the sound of rain faded into the background.
"Why me…?"
The question slipped out quietly, almost unconsciously.
There was no one to answer.
There never was.
Anshad leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting toward the ceiling where faint cracks traced uneven lines across the paint. His mind didn't jump to excitement or fear.
It went somewhere else.
To the past.
His name was simple—Anshad K.
But it wasn't the only name he carried.
On official documents, on certain records, there was another—
Xǐ Qiáng K (喜强).
A name that didn't quite belong to Mumbai.
A name that connected him to a part of his life he barely understood.
His appearance didn't help either. At first glance, he looked Indian. But there was something slightly different about him—his skin a shade fairer than most, his features sharper, his eyes carrying a depth people sometimes noticed but never understood.
"Mixed?" people would ask.
He would nod or ignore it.
Explaining required memories.
And memories… were complicated.
His mother had died ten years ago.
He still remembered the hospital room.
White walls. Faint smell of antiseptic. Machines that beeped with a rhythm that felt too controlled to belong to life.
She had smiled at him.
Weak. Gentle.
As if trying to make the moment easier for him, even when she was the one leaving.
"Take care of yourself…"
That was all she said.
No long speech. No dramatic farewell.
Just a simple sentence that stayed with him long after everything else faded.
His father didn't die like that.
There was no final moment. No last words.
Just exhaustion.
Years of overwork. Pressure. Responsibility that never seemed to end.
One day, he simply… didn't wake up.
Doctors called it natural.
Anshad called it inevitable.
After that, the house became quieter.
Then emptier.
And eventually—
Gone.
There was still one person left.
His older brother.
Xinran K (欣然).
Somewhere out there.
Alive. Busy. Distant.
They didn't hate each other.
They just didn't talk.
Time had a way of creating distance without conflict.
And distance, once created, rarely fixed itself.
The rain grew heavier outside.
Anshad's gaze returned to his phone.
The email was still open.
Still real.
Still waiting.
But something else surfaced in his mind.
Not the past.
Not exactly.
More like… fragments.
Moments he had ignored.
Age 22.
A bike speeding toward him.
Too fast. Too close.
There should have been panic.
There should have been impact.
Instead—
He was already standing a few steps away.
No memory of moving.
Just… there.
Age 25.
Winter.
Everyone around him shivered, wrapping themselves in layers.
He didn't.
He noticed it only when someone pointed it out.
"You're not cold?"
He had shrugged.
"I guess not."
Age 27.
Construction site.
A metal bar slipped from above.
It fell straight toward him.
For a split second—
Everything slowed.
Not dramatically. Not like in movies.
Just enough for him to notice.
Enough for him to step aside.
Later, he convinced himself it was timing.
Good reflexes.
Nothing more.
Age 29.
Stress.
Pressure.
A day that refused to go right.
And then—
Hunger.
Not normal hunger.
Something sharp. Intense. Almost painful.
He ate more than usual.
Much more.
And within minutes—
He felt perfectly fine.
Too fine.
As if nothing had happened at all.
Back in the present, Anshad exhaled slowly.
He had ignored all of it.
Labeled it as coincidence.
Luck.
Adaptation.
Anything that didn't require deeper thought.
But tonight felt different.
The email.
The timing.
The strange sense of… familiarity.
"Shanghai…"
He said it softly.
Testing the word.
Feeling it.
He stood up.
The chair creaked behind him.
No hesitation.
No overthinking.
Just a quiet decision forming in his mind.
There was nothing holding him here.
No one waiting.
No reason to stay.
He packed lightly.
A few clothes.
Documents.
His laptop.
Everything fit into a single bag.
It always did.
By the time the rain slowed, he was already on his way.
The airport was alive in a way his apartment never was.
Voices overlapping. Announcements echoing. People moving with purpose, dragging suitcases, checking tickets, rushing toward gates.
Anshad stood among them.
Still.
Observing.
Detached.
For a brief moment, something felt… off.
The movement around him.
The noise.
It all seemed slightly slower than it should be.
Not enough to alarm him.
Just enough to notice.
He looked down at his boarding pass.
Destination: Shanghai
Time: Early Morning Departure
A strange feeling settled in his chest.
Not fear.
Not excitement.
Something else.
Something undefined.
He stepped forward when his row was called.
One step closer to the gate.
One step closer to something he didn't understand.
He paused.
Just for a second.
"Why does this feel like…"
He frowned slightly.
"…something is going to change?"
There was no answer.
Only the quiet hum of the airport.
And the path ahead.
Somewhere deep inside—
Unseen.
Unnoticed.
Something stirred.
[Pre-Activation Phase: 92% Complete]
[Instinct Layer: Active — Monitoring]
Anshad walked forward.
Without knowing—
He had already crossed the point of no return.
End of Chapter 0