Introduction
The air trembled slightly, as if between wakefulness and dreaming. I took my first step, and the ground beneath my feet was soft and warm, like walking on a path woven from clouds. The colors around me were nameless and strange, as if they were alive, changing, breathing, and resonating with the pulse of the world.
I don’t know where I am, or why I am here. The only thing I can hear is my own footsteps, light and respectful as if even the earth is holding its breath to listen. The breeze blows by, bringing a floral scent, sweet and ancient, awakening some indescribable emotion in my heart. Is it desire? Or some familiar feeling?
The people around me began to bow their heads. First came one person - a man in robes that shone like morning frost. His eyes met mine briefly, then he bowed his head and knelt on one knee. Then came another, a woman with long silver hair and eyes as peaceful as still water. She moved gracefully, placing her hand over her heart in silent respect.
Everywhere I went, I saw more and more people with their heads down. They avoided my gaze as if looking directly at me would upset some sacred balance. Their movements were smooth and orderly as if choreographed by some invisible force.
I wanted to speak, to ask them why. But no words came out. The further I walked, the more unreal everything seemed. Even the buildings seemed to greet me, their spires radiating an indescribable light. The statues that lined the road were carved from gemstones, and each one depicted a figure that was both familiar and strange. Their faces were solemn and timeless, like memories from a distant era.
Finally, I came to a river. The water shimmered softly, like liquid moonlight, casting ripples on the pearly stone banks. Maids in white robes stood by the river, their bodies straight, as if waiting for some signal. When I approached, they did not just bow—they sank gracefully to their knees in perfect unison. Their hands glided to the ground, arms curving outward, fingertips meeting in a delicate circle. With measured breath, they lowered their heads, foreheads resting gently against their hands in silent reverence. The river’s soft ripples carried the weight of their solemn gesture, as if the water itself bore witness to the unspoken ritual.
My breath hitches. I’m unsure if I’m stunned by their awe, or overwhelmed by the silence that follows. What are they seeing? What do they know that I know nothing about? The wind blows by again, whispering something in a language I cannot understand but feel deeply. This is not a dream. This is all real. And, somehow, I seem to be at the heart of it. I stared at the shimmering water, trying to see myself in the reflection. Then I remembered to breathe.
I am 白如月and this is my story.
