Outside an old house in Yuezhou lies a patch of reeds beside a lake. To the north, the water narrows; to the south, it widens, resembling a sliced pear, with the surface shimmering under the night sky.
The summer air hung thick with heat, lulling the world into a drowsy stupor.
In the quiet of the evening, Lumi nestled in her mother's arms on a rocking chair by the window. Her eyelids drooped as she gazed out sleepily. The soft breeze from a fan brushed her skin, making her squint with contentment. The chorus of insects filled the yard, and Lumi curled even closer to her mother, lulled by the comforting sounds of the village.
This small place was Changzhuang. No one could quite remember why it was called that, but they grew accustomed to this name over time.
The disasters following the Lament had spread across all of Huanglong. Even here, deep in the mountains of Yuezhou, they had left their indelible mark by cutting the village off from the outside world—technology crumbled, and the villagers returned to the old ways—farming, hunting, surviving as their ancestors once had. Life was dictated by the rising and setting sun. Over time, people in Changzhuang became used to the peace and simplicity of this lifestyle.
The day Lumi was born, the whole house lit up. The swaddled infant glowed softly, catching the eye of every villager. They gathered in the yard, curious to see the newborn who shone like a small beacon. Resonators were rare here, and ones like Lumi, with such innate power, were even rarer. But in a village as tranquil as Changzhuang, there were no grand challenges that even needed a child Resonator to solve. Therefore, Lumi grew up carefree, just like other ordinary children in the village. She learned the ways of the mountains and fields—how to track wild animal traces and how to distinguish which plants might sate a hungry belly.
People in Changzhuang enjoyed cooling off under the shade of a tree. As Lumi ran through the trees with her friends, her inborn light flickered as if performing a cheerful dance. The village elders lovingly called her "Sunshine," while her friends dubbed her "Lumi the Firefly." Yet Lumi often wondered about her strange gift, unsure of its purpose. More often than not, it was a nuisance. On hunting trips, her light would flash uncontrollably, startling prey.
After being asked to temporarily sit out from the hunts, Lumi's heart sank with a pang of frustration. Alone, she wandered to the marshes by the reeds and sat down. Her glow flickered, dimmed, and then brightened again as she practiced, trying to control the light. Finally, exhaustion set in, and she drifted off to sleep. Despite her struggles, Lumi never felt rushed.
Life in Changzhuang was slow, and there was always time to grow and to learn.
The shimmering surface of the lake returned to darkness. The night breeze ferried the croaks of frogs away. Tomorrow was another day.
"Tuesday, clear skies. I watched the sunset from Caidong Peak! But Zhangzhang didn't come… She seems to have lost interest in this kind of thing..."
Lumi paused and closed her notebook in the golden light of the setting sun.
It was a thick hardcover notebook—a birthday gift from her parents, one she had chosen herself. Once a diary, it had transformed into an exploration journal as she grew older. As a child, Lumi was content wandering the pebble paths of Changzhuang, but now, those paths felt too small. Her curiosity stretched beyond the borders of the village. She longed for the roads that led to the world outside.
The only problem was—no one had found those roads in a long, long time.
Her father once told her about the many failed attempts. Over the years, many had tried to find a way beyond the mountains, but all had returned empty-handed, lost, or worse. Eventually, the villagers gave up, their focus shifting to more immediate concerns. Life in Changzhuang was demanding—farming from spring to autumn, then bracing for the long winter when the mountains would disappear under a blanket of silver frost, making exploration impossible.
Lumi understood the demands of life, yet her curiosity and yearning for adventure burned even brighter. She quickly gathered a group of friends and formed a small exploration team, determined to find a way out. But despite their excitement, failure kicked in—the aftermath of the Lament had seemingly twisted the terrain, eliminating every possible way out, just like it had their forebears.
At first, the setbacks didn't bother them. They were kids, after all, full of energy and hope. But as time passed, they drifted away. The older ones joined the labor teams, others lost interest. Lumi's once lively group dwindled, and today, her exploration ended earlier than planned as everyone was eager to hurry home before dusk settled in.
Lumi sighed.