Yuming's POV

A low murmur of voices and the occasional bark of laughter pulled me from unconsciousness. My head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache, and I groaned softly as I tried to open my eyes. Blinking against the dim light, I reached up to touch my temple, wincing at the soreness.

The air around me felt dense and unfamiliar. It smelled of earth, leather, and something sharp—metal, perhaps? I pushed myself upright, the world spinning slightly as I moved. My limbs felt leaden, weighed down by exhaustion and cold.

When my vision steadied, I looked around.

I was inside a tent, its canvas walls dull and streaked with dirt. The cot I was lying on sagged beneath me, and a battered lantern hanging from the central pole cast flickering shadows across the sparse interior. There wasn't much else—just a wooden crate, a few blankets, and a bowl of water sitting on the ground.

I leaned forward, peering into the bowl, and froze. The face staring back at me was pale, drawn, and unfamiliar. My damp hair clung to my cheeks, and my eyes were wide with panic. My heart raced as I stared at my reflection, willing some fragment of memory to surface.

A burst of laughter outside the tent made me jump. Voices, sharp and mocking, echoed through the night. My pulse quickened, the noise jarring against my fragile calm. I stood on unsteady legs, clutching at the cot to keep from toppling over. The cold bit through my damp clothes, but I ignored it as I shuffled toward the tent flap.

The noise grew louder as I pushed aside the fabric and stepped out into the night.

A roaring campfire burned at the center of a clearing, its light casting flickering shadows over a group of rough-looking men. They were loud and boisterous, their faces marked with scars and hardened by sun and sea. Most of them were armed—swords, daggers, and rifles glinting in the firelight.

I froze.

Pirates.

My pulse quickened as I took in their raucous laughter, their rough jests, and the predatory glances they cast in my direction. Several of them noticed me and nudged each other, their grins widening as they muttered amongst themselves.

Before I could retreat back into the tent, a sharp voice cut through the din.

"So, the little river rat's awake."

My gaze snapped to the speaker.

He stood at the center of the group, tall and broad-shouldered, with an air of authority that silenced the men around him. His black hair fell to his shoulders in thick, untamed waves, and small braids woven into the strands swayed as he moved. His tanned skin gleamed in the firelight, and his dark eyes were sharp, glinting with both amusement and something colder—calculation, perhaps.

"W-Who are you?"

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"They call me Jun."

He took a step toward me, his boots crunching on the dirt. "I thought you were dead already," he said, his lips curling into a smirk. "You must be tougher than I thought."

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came.

"What's your name, little rat?" he asked, his tone mocking.

"My name is..." I started, but the words caught in my throat. My brow furrowed as I tried again. "My name is..."

Nothing.

My pulse raced, and my breathing quickened as panic crept in.

Who am I? Why can't I remember my name? The thought shot through me like a bolt of lightning. I pressed my fingers to my temple, searching desperately for a name, a memory—anything. But there was nothing. My mind was a blank slate, a yawning void where my past should have been.

"Quiet, aren't you?" He tilted his head, studying me like a puzzle he was trying to solve. "Do you know who you are?"

"I... I don't know," I finally stammered, my voice cracking. "I don't know my name."

The men around the fire burst into laughter, their mocking voices filling the night.

One of his men shouted mockingly, "She's got nothing upstairs, boss."

The man—clearly their leader—held up a hand, silencing them with a sharp gesture. His dark eyes lingered on me, his smirk returning. "Convenient," he said. "No name, no memory, nothing? You're just full of mysteries, aren't you?"

I pressed my lips together, unable to meet his gaze.

His attention dropped to the pendant around my neck. The jade gleamed in the firelight, its intricate carvings catching his eye. His expression darkened briefly, his lips pressing into a thin line. But just as quickly, he masked it with another smirk. "Well, lucky for you, I'm in a good mood today. You can stay—for now."

"Stay?" One of the pirates, a wiry man with a scar running down his cheek, scoffed. "What for? She's useless! Probably more trouble than she's worth."

The leader's gaze snapped to the man, cold and unyielding. "Did I ask for your opinion, Kael?"

Kael gritted his teeth but said nothing more.

The leader stepped closer, towering over me. His dark eyes gleamed with amusement as he tilted his head. "But let's get one thing straight. You're my guest. That means no one touches you, or I'll cut off their hands and hang them in my quarters as trophies for everyone to see. Got it?"

The pirates grumbled their assent, though their sullen expressions betrayed their displeasure.

"And you..." His gaze returned to me, his smirk growing wider. "Since you don't seem to know your name, I'll give you one."

He paused, tapping his chin thoughtfully as he looked me over.

"Xiǎo lǎo shǔ," he said, at last, his tone laced with amusement.

"Little Rat?" I repeated, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Fits, doesn't it?" He tilted his head, his dark eyes gleaming with mockery. "After all, you washed up here half-dead, scurrying around like you don't belong. A rat trying to survive in a world too big for it. Kind of charming, in a pathetic way, don't you think?"

The men laughed again, their voices grating in my ears. I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to snap back.

The leader raised a hand, silencing the laughter. "Listen up!" he called, his voice commanding. "This little rat is under my protection. You so much as look at her the wrong way, and you'll be answering to me. Got it?"

A chorus of grumbled acknowledgments followed, though none of them sounded particularly happy about it.

"And you, little rat," he said, turning back to me, his expression sharp. "Don't be a klutz. I don't tolerate dead weight. Understand?"

I swallowed hard and nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. "I... I understand."

His smirk returned, and he turned back to the fire, dismissing me as if I were nothing more than a minor distraction.

I stood there, trembling from the cold and the overwhelming weight of everything I didn't know. The fire crackled as the pirates resumed their rowdy banter, but I couldn't shake the sense of foreboding that clung to me.

Seems like I don't have another choice, I thought bitterly. I don't know where I came from, my name, or how I even ended up with this bunch of barbarians in the first place.

For now, I was stuck here—with Jun, the pirates, and the fragile hope that somewhere in the shadows of my mind lay the answers I so desperately needed.