The transition did not happen with a thunderclap or a dramatic shift in the atmosphere. It began in the small, quiet space of a dimly lit room, where the air smelled of dried herbs and old wood. Liu Er sat on the edge of a low bed, his spine curved like a weathered bow, his eyes fixed on the small boy sitting cross-legged at his feet. The boy was his grandson, a child with wide, curious eyes who still believed the world was a place of simple rules.
Liu Er’s voice was a dry rasp, the sound of wind moving over parched earth. He wasn't telling a bedtime story; he was delivering a set of instructions.
"The world is divided, little one," Liu Er whispered, his hand trembling slightly as he reached out to touch the boy’s forehead. "There are those who spend their entire lives trying to leave th
