The traveler left at dawn.

His cart creaked along the dirt road, disappearing beyond the eastern hills. A few villagers watched him go, but soon enough, the village returned to its quiet rhythm. For them, he was just another passerby. His stories would linger for a while, shared over drinks or whispered between curious children, but eventually, they too would fade.

Shen Mu remained by the outskirts, eyes lingering on the road long after the traveler had disappeared. His presence had left no trace, yet something about his visit lingered. A sense of movement. Of distant echoes reaching a place that had long been still.

“You’ve been staring at that road for a while.”

Shen Mu turned. Uncle Huan stood behind him, hands tucked behind his back, watching him with quiet amusement.

“Thinking of leaving?” the old man asked.

Shen Mu shook his head. “Not yet.”

Uncle Huan chuckled. “That’s a wise answer. The world out there isn’t as kind as the stories make it seem. If you ever do leave, you’ll find that out quickly.”

Shen Mu didn’t reply.

The village head exhaled, his gaze drifting toward the distant hills. “But it’s not just danger that waits beyond these lands. There are wonders too. Things no one here has ever seen, and likely never will.”

Shen Mu studied him for a moment. The way the old man spoke—it wasn’t with longing, nor regret. Just understanding.

“You’ve never left the village either,” Shen Mu said. It wasn’t a question.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Uncle Huan smiled, though his expression held something unreadable. “No. But I’ve spoken to many who have. And that’s almost the same thing.”

Almost.

He turned away, already walking back toward the village. “Come. You shouldn’t stand around staring at the horizon all day. People will start thinking you’re strange.”

Shen Mu remained for a moment longer before following.

The horizon would still be there tomorrow.

The morning passed uneventfully.

Shen Mu fetched water, tended to small repairs, and listened to the villagers’ chatter without engaging. The sounds of daily life filled the air—the hammering of wood, the laughter of children, the creak of carts rolling along dirt roads. It was all the same.

Yet something was different.

Not the village. Not the people.

Him.

Ever since the night at the orchard, something within him had sharpened. It wasn’t as if he had gained new sight, but rather, he had stopped overlooking things that had always been there. The way the wind moved, how the light shifted between the leaves, the faint rhythm in the rustling grass.

It was nothing, and it was everything.

Later that day, he passed by the well. A group of villagers had gathered nearby, discussing something with animated gestures. He caught only fragments of their conversation.

“…they say in the south, there’s been no rain for weeks…”

“…a village burned down overnight. No one knows how it started…”

“…strange figures moving through the fog…”

Whispers of the outside world. Stories that made their way even here.

Shen Mu continued walking. He had no reason to stop.

Then, it happened again.

A single leaf drifted from a tree branch above, tumbling lazily toward the ground.

A simple thing.

But as he watched, the air around him seemed to shift.

The leaf’s descent slowed—not in the way a breeze might carry it, nor in the way time felt stretched in deep thought. It was subtle, but undeniable. A hesitation in movement, a stillness between seconds.

The world did not stop. But for the briefest moment, it felt as though it had paused just enough for him to notice.

His breath steadied.

Then, the moment passed.

The leaf landed. The wind returned. And everything moved as it always had.

Shen Mu did not react. He did not look around to see if anyone else had noticed—because he already knew the answer.

This was his alone.

He lowered his gaze to the leaf at his feet. His fingers curled slightly, not out of fear, but something else. A feeling that had no name.

Had this happened before? Had there been other moments like this that he had never noticed?

He thought back to the orchard. The stillness. The feeling of something just beyond his reach.

It was the same.

Not an illusion. Not a trick of the mind.

A truth.

He did not yet understand.

But he will.