The village came into view slowly, as if the world itself had decided to stretch out the time between each step, slowing down the inevitable. The air was thick with a strange heaviness that made each breath feel dense, as though it carried with it more than just oxygen. Li Zhen walked along the narrow, winding road, his boots stirring up dust that lingered in the still air. The landscape around him was peaceful—too peaceful—but something deep within him whispered that peace was merely a mask for something more profound.
As he neared the village, the weight of the air grew heavier. The wind that had swept across the mountain pass seemed to die here, as though the very earth had decided to hold its breath. It was unnerving, this stillness, and yet everything seemed alive—alive with the sounds of hidden eyes watching, waiting.
When Li Zhen entered the village, the first thing that struck him was the silence. The streets were empty, save for a few people going about their business. Their movements were slow, deliberate, but there was a sense of tension in their eyes. As he passed by, they nodded at him, some even smiling as if they recognized him—no, as if they had always known him.
"Li Zhen, it's good to see you again," one of them said, a middle-aged man with graying hair, his face warm and familiar.
Li Zhen's steps faltered. The words echoed in his mind, but there was no recognition. He did not know this man. He had never seen him before, yet the words felt… right. As though he had indeed seen him many times. As though they had shared more than just a casual glance.
"How have you been?" the man asked, his smile widening. "We've all missed you."
Li Zhen's chest tightened, a cold unease settling in the pit of his stomach. "I… I don't know you," he said, his voice unsteady.
The man laughed, a low chuckle that seemed to ripple through the air like a forgotten memory. "Of course, you do. You've been away for a long time. But we've been waiting."
Li Zhen couldn't help but take a step back. The village felt foreign and yet, inexplicably, familiar. It was as though this place had existed in his mind long before he had stepped foot here. He wanted to remember—wanted to know why the air felt like it had once belonged to him—but there were no answers. Only more questions.
He continued down the path, trying to shake off the feeling that something was wrong. It was the eyes, the way they watched him, as though they knew him far better than he knew himself.
At the center of the village stood a structure—an old, crumbling temple surrounded by a few scattered buildings. It seemed to be the heart of this place, the focal point around which everything else revolved. The walls were covered with ancient carvings, faded and worn by time, depicting scenes that seemed strangely familiar. Yet, the more Li Zhen looked at them, the more he felt like he was looking at someone else's life, as though these images had never truly belonged to him.
In the center of the temple stood a large mirror, framed in ornate gold that had long since tarnished. The mirror was framed by two towering columns, the edges weathered with time. Its surface was dark, not reflecting the bright sun overhead, but absorbing it, like a black hole in the middle of the village. It was the only thing in the village that seemed to defy the stillness.
Li Zhen approached it cautiously, his gaze lingering on his own reflection—only it wasn't him. It was someone else entirely.
He stepped closer, his heart pounding as his reflection shifted. No longer was he the man he recognized; now, there was a version of himself staring back—yet something was off. The figure in the mirror smiled at him, but Li Zhen did not. It was as though the reflection was mocking him, daring him to acknowledge it.
He reached out a hand, almost as if he were going to touch the glass, but stopped himself. Something about this mirror, this reflection, felt wrong.
Then, a voice broke through the air, a whisper that seemed to seep from the very stone beneath his feet.
"You will see the truth in this mirror, Li Zhen. But only if you speak the truth."
Li Zhen turned, searching for the source of the voice, but there was no one around. The village had grown eerily quiet again, and the only sound that filled his ears was the slow thrum of his own heartbeat.
He returned his gaze to the mirror. It remained unchanged, dark and endless, as though it were waiting for something. For him.
With a deep breath, Li Zhen straightened, his reflection staring back at him with an intensity that made him shiver.
"You're not real," he whispered to the mirror, his voice wavering, but it was not his own voice he heard. The reflection spoke back, and this time, its words were his own—words he did not recognize.
"Are you sure about that?"
His hand shook as he reached forward again, but the moment his fingers brushed against the glass, the world shifted. The reflection rippled, distorting, like water disturbed by an unseen hand. The figure in the mirror grinned at him with a malevolent smile, one that seemed too wide, too unnatural.
"You will only see the truth," the voice continued, this time clearer, colder. "When you speak the truth. But be warned, Li Zhen, the truth you seek may not be the truth you want."
He pulled his hand away from the glass, his chest tightening. It was as if the mirror was reaching out to him, beckoning him to speak—to reveal the lies he had buried deep within himself.
The villagers had gathered around the temple now, standing just beyond the threshold, their faces serene but unreadable. They stared at him, waiting, expecting something, but offering nothing in return.
Li Zhen felt trapped in this moment, caught between the truth he was so desperate to uncover and the lies that had followed him through every step of his journey. The sword at his side, ever silent, felt heavier now, as though the weight of its history, its secrets, was pressing down on him.
In a low voice, barely more than a whisper, he spoke.
"I… I don't know who I am anymore."
The moment the words left his mouth, the air around him seemed to pulse with energy. The reflection in the mirror flickered, its grin fading into something else—something darker. And as Li Zhen watched, his reflection began to shift. No longer was it the version of himself he knew, but something older—something more tired, as though it had lived a thousand lives and died a thousand deaths.
It was a version of himself that he could not comprehend, a version that bore the weight of a past he did not recognize.
"You lie," the reflection said, its voice echoing in the empty space. "But it doesn't matter. You will always be trapped by the truth you cannot remember."
Li Zhen stumbled back, his heart pounding in his chest. His breath was shallow, his mind racing. The reflection in the mirror was not just a reflection—it was a prison. A reminder that he was more than just the man who stood in front of it. He was the sum of countless lives, each one shaped by decisions he could no longer recall.
And yet, the mirror held his answers—if he was brave enough to face them.
He turned away from the mirror, his body trembling with the weight of the moment. He had come to this village seeking something—answers, perhaps, or a moment of clarity. But what he found was a haunting reminder that the past he sought to escape was never truly gone. It lived on in the reflections, in the lies, and in the silence that followed him.
The villagers remained silent, watching him leave, their faces still as unreadable as the mirror. And Li Zhen, though he had made no decision, felt a part of him already shifting, as if the path before him was already set.
There was no going back now.