Qi Yan didn’t know how long he’d slept. He only knew that when he woke, the scenery beyond the train window had changed. No more endless mountains—only countryside fields stretched before him.

This time, it was his younger sister Qi Ran leaning against his shoulder, fast asleep. Her delicate face, adorable profile, the cold sweat on her palms, her slightly trembling shoulders… She must be trapped in recurring nightmares again. That’s why she hated sleeping so much.

All Qi Yan could do now was hold her tighter, letting her feel she wasn’t alone.

“We’re almost there… DongSui Town,” he murmured. DongSui Town was where he and his sister spent their early childhood. They’d only moved to the provincial capital when he started middle school, living in a house temporarily lent by their grandmother.

But now, that city home had been reclaimed by their grandmother’s family. Qi Yan chose to return to this town—not just for his sister’s recovery, but because while sorting through their parents’ belongings, he’d found a twenty-year lease agreement. It covered the very house they’d lived in as children, signed the year he was born. One year remained before it expired.

Qi Yan had called the landlord that very night. No one had re-rented the vacant house. No rent hikes were demanded. The only drawback? A thorough cleaning happened just once a year—the place would likely be filthy. But to Qi Yan, none of that mattered. Having a home to share with his sister was enough.

The road ahead? His future? Qi Yan had no answers. No plans. One step at a time—that was all he could manage.

“Passengers, DongSui Station is approaching. Those disembarking, please gather your belongings and wait near the carriage doors or designated exits. DongSui Station is approaching…”

By the third announcement, only five minutes remained until DongSui Station—his destination.

Qi Yan gently pinched Qi Ran’s pale cheek. “Time to wake up, Xiao Ran. Xiao Ran…”

In an instant, Qi Ran’s tear-filled eyes flew open. She buried her face in Qi Yan’s chest, clutching his shirt tightly.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t be afraid. I’m here. Right beside you.” Qi Yan stroked her back, his voice soft.

*Another nightmare…*

The train glided slowly into the platform. Qi Yan pushed Qi Ran’s wheelchair off the carriage, their light luggage in tow. No one waited to greet them—exactly as expected. In this town both familiar and strange, they had no relatives or friends. Truthfully, in this whole world, they had only each other.

The platform felt even quieter than he’d imagined. A station attendant dozed off in the lingering heat of late summer. Except during Lunar New Year rush, this station—served by just one train every three days—would never truly bustle.

Beneath his feet lay not the bumpy dirt roads of memory, but smooth, freshly paved asphalt. DongSui Town hadn’t stood still. It was moving forward, at its own pace.

It was 2 p.m. in early September. Summer’s heat still clung thickly to the air. The blazing sun hung overhead, its glare forcing Qi Yan to squint. The heat pressed down like a furnace.

Qi Ran lifted her little parasol high, trying to shield her brother too—but left herself exposed to the sun.

“You keep the shade… This sunlight… ha… I can handle it. Sunburn would be worse for you.”

Drenched in sweat and panting, Qi Yan’s words held little conviction. Yet Qi Ran obediently lowered the parasol’s edge. She understood—just protecting herself took all her strength now. Trying to shield him would only wound her further, burdening him more.

“DongSui’s changed so much. I don’t remember so many high-rises and villas… Guess the town’s got richer folks now.”

“I wonder if the school changed much? Probably expanded several times!”

“Remember that little shop where we bought sugar popsicles? Hope it’s still there… I miss it…”

Qi Yan spoke aloud, tracing memories of the town in his mind. He did it to ease his sister’s unease—to remind her she wasn’t alone. That he was right here.

His throat grew dry. He glanced at the rough sketch map he’d drawn from memory and the landlord’s directions. The destination still felt far. The landlord had offered to pick them up at DongSui Station, but Qi Yan had politely refused. A stubborn shred of pride held him back. He couldn’t accept too much kindness—too many handouts. Because when that kindness stopped, he’d be left with nothing. Just like his grandmother reclaiming their home. Only then did he realize he had no place to return to, forced to shamelessly stay in school dorms during holidays.

*Creak… creak…*

Only footsteps and the wheelchair’s rhythm filled the silence—their most familiar daily soundtrack.

A sudden *clatter-clank* shattered the quiet behind them. It felt like an intrusion into their shared space. Qi Yan turned. But beyond the clear sky and distant mountains, only rows of small villas stood.

*Who’d be out in this heat?* Qi Yan chuckled at his own jumpiness.

Yet that strange metallic clatter came again—like a bicycle chain straining.

He turned once more. Same view. No people. No bicycle.

Qi Yan rubbed his temples. *Hallucinating from exhaustion?* He’d slept soundly on the train. His sister showed no reaction—just his overactive nerves.

*Almost there. Just a little farther.*

Qi Yan steeled himself and pushed the wheelchair onward.

*“Heh heh… They’ve finally returned… him and her…”*

A timeless, lilting laugh drifted on the wind—but Qi Yan, already far ahead, never heard it.