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When Shen Wei teleports to the site of the strange energy, he’s surprised to see a man sitting in the middle of a huge crater. It doesn’t take him long to realize that he’s not of Dixing; there’s an energy around him that’s foreign—dangerous.
And with a sweep of his arm and a shift in his stance, motions so well-practiced that they’re ingrained in his body, his glaive is leveled—steady and lethal.
“Who are you? How have you entered Dixing?” Since the agreement was signed between Haixing and Dixing there hasn’t been any travel between their worlds. And even though it’s been ten thousand years, Shen Wei still stands sentinel, guarding the peace that was so hard-won.
“Dixing?” the man echoes confusedly, “Is that where I am? I have no idea how I got here.” He stands up and brushes off his pants and starts walking towards Shen Wei with no fear in his steps.
Shen Wei lunges forward, robes billowing behind him, and stops right in front of the man with the blade of his glaive pressed against the skin of the man’s throat.
“Whoa, wait—what? I’m not a bad person,” the man says frantically. “I mean it! I don’t know how I got here—the weird Hallow thing just glowed and then I just ended up here?” The man trails off and gives Shen Wei an apologetic smile, which is pretty daring considering the blade held to his neck.
“Anyway…uh, Hei Lao Ge? Do you mind stepping back a little?” the man says flippantly, reaching out a hand to lightly push at Shen Wei’s arm.
Shen Wei slams the end of his glaive into the hard ground and hauls the man closer sharply. He absently notes that a soft, sweet fragrance unique to the surface diffuses in the air around the man. It’s a clean, nostalgic feeling that Shen Wei hasn’t forgotten, not even after thousands of years.
“Do you know what you’re doing? You—a mere human—to ruin this fragile peace others have devoted their lives to,” Shen Wei demands. His voice is hoarse and brittle and his heart aches for something, someone, he can’t remember.
The apprehension on the other man’s face sparks something in Shen Wei and he steps back. “I apologize. But you need to go back—now.”
“I can’t though. The thing that sent me here isn’t with me,” the man says bluntly. “Look, I’m sorry for violating the agreement, but I didn’t know it was possible in the first place.” The silence that stretches between them as the man waits for his response is uncomfortable because it gives Shen Wei time to remember the feeling that he had submerged in his subconscious years ago—drowned until its last breath.
The feeling of longing and searching for a fleeting, evanescent memory that was reduced to nothing.
Seeing this strange man, who hails from lands unknown yet familiar, makes Shen Wei’s emotions flicker and flare with something peculiar. It’s sirenic and tempting to recall.
And when the man reaches out his hand saying, “I’m Zhao Yunlan, you are?” he feels like the cracks of his fractured soul are flooded and mended, like taking a refreshing breath of air.
“My name is Shen Wei.”