A shift.
1167 Words
“I’m late!”
Li Ming shot upright, breath uneven, eyes locking onto the time.
Her heart dropped.
No.
Today.
The Gaokao.
Her hands moved before her thoughts settled. She grabbed her uniform and forced it on, nearly missing a sleeve. Her bag lay half open beside the chair. She pulled it closer and shoved her books inside without checking.
“I can’t be late…”
Her voice tightened.
She rushed out of her room.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
She slowed for a second, then understood.
Li Sheng had already left.
Of course.
He didn’t wake her.
Her jaw tightened, but she pushed it aside. There was no time.
She ran out.
The streets were crowded.
Cars barely moved. People pushed past each other, voices rising in frustration. Everything felt slow.
Too slow.
“Excuse me… sorry… please…”
She slipped through the crowd, clutching her bag.
“I’m late… today is the Gaokao…”
Someone turned sharply.
“You are writing today?”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
A brief pause.
Then the car door opened.
“Get in.”
She didn’t hesitate.
“Thank you.”
The car moved, but her thoughts didn’t settle.
What if I miss it?
What if I’m too late?
What if everything ends here?
Her breathing grew shallow.
Her fingers curled tightly against her skirt.
“Please…”
Her voice was barely there.
“Just today…”
Her gaze lowered.
“Mom… bless me.”
Her chest tightened.
“I’ll do well.”
“I have to.”
The school gates appeared ahead.
Students rushed in. Some calm. Some panicking.
Just like her.
The car stopped.
“Go.”
“Thank you!”
She jumped out and ran.
The examination hall was silent.
Completely silent.
Rows of desks stretched across the room. Invigilators stood at the front, watching. Everything felt controlled.
Final.
Li Ming slowed as she stepped inside.
Her heartbeat echoed in her ears.
She found her seat and sat.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she placed her pen down.
Breathe.
She closed her eyes for a moment.
Then opened them.
The paper was placed in front of her.
“Begin.”
At first, her mind felt tight.
The first question looked unfamiliar.
Heavy.
Her chest tightened again.
Then, slowly, something settled.
She read it again.
And understood.
Her pen moved.
One answer.
Then another.
Her breathing steadied.
Her thoughts aligned.
Read.
Understand.
Write.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Everything else faded.
No home.
No father.
No Li Sheng.
No fear.
Only the paper.
Then something shifted.
Her pen paused.
Just slightly.
The words blurred.
Her vision flickered.
Her chest tightened.
For a moment, she felt distant.
Like she wasn’t fully there.
Her grip tightened on the pen.
Focus.
She blinked.
Everything returned.
The paper.
The silence.
“…I’m just tired.”
She continued writing.
Time moved faster.
Answers came easier.
Her confidence returned.
She kept writing.
She didn’t stop.
She couldn’t.
Near the end, it happened again.
Stronger.
A pull.
Faint, but clear.
Her breathing slowed.
Something was calling her.
Not loud.
But steady.
Her chest tightened.
No.
Not now.
She forced herself forward.
One last section.
Her pen moved carefully.
“Stop writing.”
The voice cut through the room.
Everything ended.
Pens dropped.
Papers collected.
Chairs shifted.
It was over.
Li Ming leaned back slowly.
Her fingers loosened.
She had finished.
They were told to remain.
Instructions for the next day.
Voices filled the room again.
But Li Ming barely heard them.
Her body felt heavy.
Exhaustion settled deep.
Her head lowered onto the desk.
Just for a moment.
Just to rest.
She did not wake there.
Warmth.
Stillness.
Silence.
Li Ming opened her eyes slowly.
Her breath stopped.
This was not the classroom.
Stone stretched beneath her feet.
Cold.
Solid.
Real.
She pushed herself up quickly.
Her heartbeat rose.
Her surroundings were unfamiliar.
Wide.
Ancient.
People moved around her.
Not in modern clothes.
Not in anything she recognized.
“She is awake.”
“She has returned.”
Her chest tightened.
Returned?
Her eyes moved quickly.
They were looking at her.
Calm.
Certain.
As if she belonged here.
“I don’t…”
Her voice felt strange.
Unfamiliar.
Someone stepped forward.
A respectful smile.
“Miss Li.”
Her heart skipped.
They knew her.
But she knew nothing.
Then she felt it.
A presence.
Her body reacted instantly.
She turned.
And saw him.
Standing not far away.
Still.
Silent.
The light behind him hid his face.
She couldn’t see him clearly.
But she felt him.
Something deep.
Something pulling her.
Her chest tightened.
Painfully.
Her steps moved.
One.
Then another.
She didn’t stop.
Her hand lifted slowly.
Her fingers reached forward.
And touched him.
Warm.
Real.
Her breath caught.
“…who are you…?”
“Li Ming!”
Her eyes snapped open.
The classroom.
Dark.
Empty.
Her breathing was uneven.
Her skin felt warm.
Too warm.
Her heart refused to slow.
The feeling stayed.
It was real.
She knew it.
Her teacher stood beside her.
“You’ve been here for a while. Go home. You have another exam tomorrow.”
Li Ming nodded faintly.
But her mind wasn’t there.
Outside, the night air felt sharp.
Real.
But something inside her had shifted.
Her thoughts were loud.
Too loud.
That place.
Those people.
Him.
Her fingers curled slightly.
She could still feel it.
That warmth.
“…that wasn’t a dream.”
Her voice was quiet.
But certain.
She turned immediately.
“I need to know.”
She went back inside.
Straight to the staff area.
Her class teacher looked up.
“Li Ming? You’re still here?”
“Miss, is the history teacher still around?”
“The history teacher?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
Then a nod.
“She should be in her office.”
Li Ming moved quickly.
She knocked.
“Come in.”
The teacher looked up.
“Yes?”
“I want to ask about the Tang Dynasty.”
A slight pause.
“I have some materials. Why?”
“I need to read about it.”
Another pause.
Then the teacher stood and walked to a shelf.
She picked out a few books and handed them over.
“Return them.”
“Thank you.”
Li Ming held them tightly.
Her heart was still racing.
At home, she moved quietly.
Carefully.
She slipped into her room and locked the door.
Then sat down.
The books lay in front of her.
Her fingers hesitated.
Then opened the first one.
Pages turned.
Words filled her vision.
History.
Records.
Names.
Details.
Then she froze.
Her breath stopped.
Her eyes locked onto a single line.
She read it again.
Slowly.
Carefully.
No.
That’s not possible.
Her grip tightened on the page.
Her heart raced.
Faster.
Louder.
Her thoughts spiraled.
This doesn’t make sense.
It shouldn’t.
But it did.
It did.
“…what is this…?”
Her voice was barely a whisper.
But her eyes didn’t move.
Something had changed.
And she couldn’t turn away anymore.
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