The shrine stayed behind them.
That alone felt wrong.
Willow Brook had always been simple. If you didn't look at something, it usually stopped being important. But today, even as Tianlian walked away, he could still feel it—like a faint pressure between his shoulders, cold fingers brushing just shy of his spine.
He didn't turn around.
Neither did Mei.
They walked side by side along the dirt path, neither speaking. The sounds of the village slowly crept back in—roosters, voices, someone arguing over cabbage prices like it was a life-or-death duel.
Normal noise.
Safe noise.
Mei's steps were a little faster than usual.
Tianlian noticed.
He always noticed.
"You're walking like something's chasing you," he said casually, hands tucked behind his head. "Relax. If anything tries to eat us, I'll heroically sacrifice you first."
She shot him a look. "You're horrible."
"I know. It's my best quality."
She didn't smile.
That worried him more than if she had screamed.
They stopped near the stream—not the exact spot where he'd found her years ago, but close enough that the water made the same soft, looping sound. Tianlian sat on a flat rock, staring at the surface. It looked ordinary. Peaceful. Like it hadn't tried to drown a mysterious child with no background whatsoever.
Suspicious.
Mei lingered a few steps away.
"Sit," he said.
She hesitated, then sat beside him, hugging her knees.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The water flowed.
The wind passed.
Tianlian broke the silence first. "You felt it too, didn't you? At the shrine."
Mei's shoulders tensed.
"…Yeah."
"That wasn't normal fear," he continued. "You weren't panicking. You weren't confused. You just… knew it was bad."
She lowered her gaze to the water. Her reflection wavered.
"I don't like it," she said quietly. "When that feeling comes, it's like my body reacts before I can think. Like it already made a decision."
That was interesting.
And concerning.
Most villagers reacted to danger emotionally—fear, panic, superstition. Mei's reaction was different. It was controlled. Automatic. Like a reflex drilled in long before memory formed.
Tianlian rested his chin on his hand.
"Hey," he said lightly. "Can I ask you something kinda weird?"
She glanced at him. "You're always weird."
"Fair." He shrugged. "Do you remember anything from before you came to Willow Brook?"
She shook her head immediately. Too immediately.
"No," she said. Then, after a pause, "Not really."
That wasn't a lie.
But it wasn't the full truth either.
Tianlian didn't push. Instead, he picked up a small pebble and tossed it into the stream. It skipped twice before sinking.
"When I found you," he said, voice casual, "you were barely breathing. If I'd been five minutes later, you probably wouldn't be yelling at me right now."
Mei's fingers tightened around her sleeves.
"I know," she whispered.
That surprised him.
"You do?"
She nodded slowly. "Grandma… told me. Once."
Ah.
So that's where the grandmother fit.
Tianlian leaned back slightly. He'd wondered about that for a while. Mei had always mentioned her grandmother naturally—too naturally for someone who'd supposedly just appeared one day.
"When I was little," Mei continued, voice careful, "Grandma used to say I was lucky."
"Surviving village life does require talent," Tianlian said. "Have you seen Auntie Lan?"
She huffed, then shook her head. "That's not what I mean."
Her gaze stayed on the water.
"She said she found me after you brought me back. Said the heavens must've pitied me. That I was already half gone."
Tianlian frowned slightly. "She never mentioned finding you before that."
"She didn't," Mei said softly. "That's why it always felt strange."
Strange was one word for it.
Mei hugged her arms lightly, fingers digging into her sleeves—not trembling, but tight, like she was holding herself together.
"She treats me like her own," Mei said. "But sometimes… sometimes I feel like she's afraid I'll disappear. Like I don't belong anywhere long enough to stay."
That was dangerous thinking for a kid.
Tianlian clicked his tongue quietly.
"Hey," he said, "you belong here. You yell at me. You steal my buns. You complain about village gossip like a professional auntie."
She glanced at him.
"That's not comforting."
"It should be. That's peak village NPC behavior."
That earned him a small smile. Just a small one.
They sat in silence again.
Then Mei spoke, quieter this time.
"Lian'er… do you think someone can forget something important on purpose?"
That was a heavy question.
Tianlian didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he stared at the water, at how the sunlight fractured and reformed endlessly across the surface.
"I think," he said slowly, "that sometimes the brain deletes files it can't open yet."
She frowned. "Files?"
"Don't worry about it." He waved a hand. "Point is—forgetting doesn't mean it's gone. Just… locked."
Mei absorbed that quietly.
The wind passed again, rustling the reeds.
Far away, the shrine pulsed once.
Neither of them felt it this time.
But Tianlian knew something had changed.
Whatever was waking up in Willow Brook wasn't rushing.
It was waiting.
And for some reason, it had already brushed against Mei.
He stood up and stretched. "Alright. Enough gloomy mystery talk. If we stay here any longer, someone's going to accuse us of skipping work."
Mei stood too. "You do skip work."
"Selective participation," he corrected.
They walked back toward the village together.
As they did, Mei glanced at the stream one last time.
For just a moment, something flickered behind her eyes—recognition without memory, certainty without reason.
Then it was gone.
And Tianlian, watching her from the corner of his eye, silently made a decision.
Whatever this world was hiding—
He was going to figure it out.
Before it decided to take her back.