Dream land- Mèngxāng

Prologue They say every person has two lives, the one they live when their eyes are open and the one they live when they dream. For most people, dreams are just stories. Fleeting, forgetting by morning. But for her, dreams were real . It did not exist on map . No sailor had seen it's shore,no king had claimed its mountains Mèngxāng only appeared to those who were tired to being awake.For twenty years, sū Mèngyǎ lived two lives. By day : A quiet girl in a small village forgetting by everyone except the wind and always maltreated by uncle's family By night: The guardian of a world made of starlight, cherry blossoms and bridges that floated on nothing. And meet Mù xingchén,who was cursed since he was in his mother womb born with no warmth and ice cold heart trapped between two worlds. Awake but never free. Will Mù xingchén ever find the key to break his ice cold heart. Join me in this beautiful adventure. Chapter 1: The Crown Sinks, The Dream Opens* The crown was heavier than the kingdom. Mù Xīngchén stood at the edge of Cedar Falls bridge at 2am. The wind off the river was sharp enough to cut. Moonlight hit the gold in his hands and turned it into something cruel. A blade. A noose. A promise he never made. Below him, the water was black and still. It didn’t reflect the stars. It swallowed them. The palace behind him was silent. No guards on this path. No advisors waiting with papers. No father calling his name like it belonged to the throne instead of him. Just silence. The kind he’d lived in for eighteen years. He lifted the crown. It was smaller than he remembered from childhood. Back then it had seemed massive, gold carved with lions and thorns, too big for his head. His tutors would adjust it every morning. _“A prince must never let it slip,”_ they’d say. _“The kingdom is watching.”_ He’d never wanted the kingdom to watch. The crown had been placed on his destiny before he took his first breath. The night he was born, a witch came to the palace gates. She asked for nothing. She offered nothing. She only spoke seven words to his mother while holding his newborn, ice-cold body: _“His heart will be ice until loved without crown. Until then, he will be trapped between worlds. Awake, but never free.”_ His mother had the witch executed before dawn. The curse stayed. Eighteen years passed. Eighteen years of tutors who wanted his obedience. Fiancées who wanted his title. Allies who wanted his bloodline. Enemies who wanted his death. No one wanted him. Mù Xīngchén didn’t believe in love. He didn’t believe in warmth. He believed in cold. In silence. In the fact that nothing — not victory, not power, not the entire empire kneeling — had ever made his chest feel anything except empty. Until tonight. Tonight he was tired of being awake. His fingers loosened. The crown slipped. It turned once in the air. Caught the moonlight. For a second it looked like fire, like a small sun falling. Then it disappeared into the black water below. No splash. No sound. Like the river had been waiting eighteen years to swallow it. Freedom, he thought. Or maybe just an end. The two felt the same tonight. He turned to walk away. Three steps. That was all his body would give him. Eighteen years of numbness caught up all at once, heavy as the crown he’d just drowned. His knees hit the stone of the bridge. Then the grass of the riverbank. Then nothing. He collapsed under a cherry blossom tree, snow-cold ground under his back, petals falling on his face like ash. The stars above spun slowly, then faster. His last thought before darkness took him wasn’t about the kingdom. Wasn’t about his father. Wasn’t about the crown at the bottom of the river. It was about a voice. _Xīngchén..._ Soft. Calm. Female. Calling his name for eighteen years in his dreams. A voice that never asked for his title. Never asked for his bloodline. Never asked for anything at all. Just his name. Like she’d known him before the curse. Before the crown. _Xīngchén... you’re late._ He didn’t know who “she” was. A lot of people dream. That’s what he told himself every time the voice came. Just his mind inventing company for a lonely prince. It would never be possible. Love in a dream? A girl who didn’t want his crown? Impossible. He closed his eyes. He fell. But not down. _Through._ Cold air turned to warm wind. Stone turned to light. The smell of river water turned to something sweet. Cherry blossoms and rain and a hint of ink. Silence turned to music made of wind chimes and distant laughter that didn’t hurt to hear. When Mù Xīngchén opened his eyes, color hit him first. It was violent. Aggressive. Wrong. Cedar Falls was grey and gold and stone. This place was every shade of blue and pink and silver he’d never been allowed to see. Colors that didn’t exist in the palace. Colors that felt like breathing. Floating islands drifted above him, tethered to nothing. Rivers of starlight moved between them instead of water. Cherry blossom trees grew sideways, upside down, their trunks glowing faintly from the inside like they had light in their veins. And flowers. Millions of them. Blooming in air where no soil existed. Petals that never fell. They just... existed. Peaceful. He stood up slowly. His body didn’t hurt. That was new. Palace floors were always cold. Always hard. This ground was soft light under his boots. But his chest. His chest ached. A dull, buried pain right under his ribs. Like something frozen solid for eighteen years was trying to crack. Trying to move. Trying to beat. He pressed a hand there, frowning. Confused. Pain was foreign. He hadn’t felt it since he was five and fell from a horse. His tutors taught him how to hide it after that. _“Princes don’t show weakness.”_ “Where am I?” His voice came out flat. Cold. Nonchalant. The same tone he used when advisors bored him with war strategies. The same tone he used on every single person. No one answered. Because no one was there. Except her. Sū Mèngyǎ slept on a bed made of woven moonlight and fallen petals, right in the middle of the glowing field. Her black hair spread around her like ink spilled in water. Her white dress had cherry blossoms embroidered along the hem that pulsed faintly, in and out, like they were breathing with her. She looked peaceful. Untouched. Like the world had never managed to leave a scar on her. It was a lie. He could tell, even without knowing her name yet. The peace around her was too deliberate. Too perfect. Like someone had built a fortress out of flowers because the real world kept burning everything down. She was an orphan. Abandoned by her parents early. Her father’s brother — her only uncle — took her in, but “taking in” meant torment. Daily. For food, for shelter, for the crime of existing. He reminded her every night that she was a burden. That no one would ever want her. That the world outside was worse than his fists. So she stopped looking at the real world. She built this instead. _Mèngxāng_. The Dream Land. A place where she controlled the weather, the colors, the silence. A place where no uncle could reach her. Where abandonment didn’t exist because everyone here was made of her memories and her wishes. This was her only peace. Her only home. Mù Xīngchén stepped closer. His boots made no sound on the light. That bothered him. He liked the sound of his footsteps. Proof he existed. Here, he was silent. Invisible. She was dreaming. He could tell by the way her lips moved slightly, like she was talking to someone only she could see. He leaned down, against eighteen years of training. Against every rule that said _don’t care, don’t feel, don’t get close_. Her dream spilled into his mind without permission. He saw himself. Ten years old. Wearing a crown three sizes too big, running through endless palace halls while guards shouted behind him. Always running. Always alone. The crown slipping down his forehead, blinding him. Then the dream shifted. He saw her. A small girl on a high balcony, watching him run from far away. Her eyes were golden-amber, even then. Sad, but not pitying. Understanding. _Stop running,_ she whispered in the dream. Her voice matched the one in his head for eighteen years. _I’m here._ Mù Xīngchén pulled back like he’d been burned. His chest twisted. Sharp pain shot through his ribs and down his arm. He staggered half a step, hand flying to her chest. He hadn’t felt pain in thirteen years. The curse. It was reacting. To her. To her dream. To the fact that she’d just touched a memory he never showed anyone. Impossible, he thought again. A lot of people dream. Millions dream every night. The odds that this girl, this orphan building a fake world to escape her uncle, was the same girl from his dreams... the odds were nothing. It would never be possible. He was Mu Xingchen. Cursed from the womb. Cold to everyone. Nonchalant to the point of cruelty. He didn’t believe in fate. He didn’t believe in miracles. He believed in ice. Sū Mèngyǎ’s eyes opened. Golden-amber. Sleepy. Not afraid. Not surprised. Not curious. She looked up at him like she’d been waiting for a bus that was eighteen years late. Like she’d saved him a seat. “Xīngchén,” she said. Her voice was soft. Warm. It did something terrible to the ice in his chest. It didn’t melt it. It made it ache more. “You’re late. Again.” Again. Like she knew about the thousand years. Mù Xīngchén stared at her. Blank face. Empty eyes. The same face he used when his father announced another political marriage for him. The same face he used when fiancées tried to touch his hand. “I don’t know you,” he said. The words came out automatically. Armor. Weapon. Shield. “And I don’t care to.” Nonchalant. Cold. Final. But his hand was still pressed to his chest. Because for the first time in eighteen years, the curse was awake. Sū Mèngyǎ smiled. Not soft. Not kind. Not the smile of a girl who wanted saving. It was the smile of someone who owned the only key. “I know,” she whispered. Petals fell from her hair. “You don’t care. You never have. That’s why you’re here now.” She stood. The field of glowing flowers bent toward her feet like they recognized their creator. “You have two choices, cursed prince,” she said. “Kill me. Break the curse. Go back to your cold kingdom.” She took one step closer. His magic flared at his fingertips, frost crawling up his sleeve. For a thousand years he had stood at this exact moment. Two options. Kill the witch child. Or fall in love. Option two didn’t exist in his dictionary. Not in real life. Not in _Mèngxāng_. Not ever. Rage twisted in him. Cold. Ugly. Final. Eighteen years of ice, a thousand years of haunting this dream without ever sleeping, and she stood there smiling like she knew his prison better than he did. Make a decision. Break the curse. Kill her fast. His hand shot out. No hesitation. Frost sharpened at his fingertips like blades. His fingers closed around her throat. Her pulse was warm under his palm. Too warm. Too alive. Sū Mèngyǎ didn’t fight. Didn’t beg. She just looked up at him and smiled. That same smile that could melt a mountain of ice. “Finally,” she breathed. The world went white. Mù Xīngchén woke to real life with a violent gasp. Cold stone under his back. River water on his lips. Cherry blossom petals on his chest. Cedar Falls bridge. 2am. Crown gone. His hands were empty. No throat. No girl. No _Mèngxāng_. Only moonlight and the osharp crack of ice under his ribs. This always happened. Many years. A thousand years. He would find her, rage would twist in him, he would decide to kill her fast, his hands would touch her... and he would wake up. Always before it ended. Always before the curse broke. Always. But why? Why now? Why had it happened a thousand times and never finished? Why did her smile follow him back into the real world and burn behind his eyes? Mù Xīngchén sat up slowly, hand pressed to his chest. The curse was awake. The pain was sharper. And somewhere, in a world of moonlight and petals, Sū Mèngyǎ was still smiling. Because in _Mèngxāng_, only those who belong can leave. And he still didn’t belong Dream land readers let's get the adventure started 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍 But your comments, votes and update 😭 messages keep my brush moving. Thanks for choosing my small, comfortable room to sit in, with love + ink stains🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤