Autumn arrived without asking.

It always did.

The city wore its usual mask.

Cars moved through crowded streets.

Office workers hurried across intersections.

Students buried themselves in phones and unfinished assignments.

Everything continued exactly as it should.

Yet for Mingyuan, autumn always felt wrong.

Like a memory standing just beyond reach.

Like a name he should remember but couldn't.

The twenty-three-year-old sat alone at the back of a nearly empty train.

Outside the window, golden leaves drifted through the evening air.

One leaf struck the glass.

Mingyuan's eyes followed it.

For a moment, his chest tightened.

A strange pain.

Sharp.

Brief.

Gone.

He placed a hand over his heart.

The feeling remained.

Not pain.

Longing.

As if something inside him was trying desperately to wake up.

"Not again..."

He sighed.

Every autumn the same thing happened.

Strange dreams.

Strange feelings.

Strange memories that weren't memories.

His friends called it stress.

His doctor called it anxiety.

Mingyuan called it exhaustion.

Because explaining the truth would make him sound insane.

How was he supposed to tell anyone that he dreamed of places that didn't exist?

Ancient palaces floating above clouds.

Black rivers beneath the earth.

Golden skies stretching endlessly toward distant mountains.

A woman standing beneath a crimson tree.

Always the same woman.

Always just out of reach.

Always disappearing before he could see her face.

The train slowed.

The next station approached.

Passengers entered.

Passengers left.

Life continued.

Until she stepped aboard.

Mingyuan froze.

The world seemed to pause.

A girl.

Simple white coat.

Dark hair.

Quiet eyes.

Nothing extraordinary.

Nothing unusual.

Yet the moment he saw her...

His heart stopped.

Not metaphorically.

Actually stopped.

One beat.

Two beats.

Three.

Gone.

Then returned all at once.

The girl looked around.

Every seat was occupied except the one directly across from him.

She sat down.

Silence.

Mingyuan stared out the window.

Pretending not to notice her.

Pretending his entire body wasn't trembling.

Pretending he wasn't feeling something he couldn't explain.

The girl pulled a book from her bag.

For several minutes neither spoke.

Then

"Have we met before?"

Mingyuan blinked.

The question caught him off guard.

She was looking at him now.

Curious.

Confused.

As though she felt it too.

"I don't think so."

The answer sounded wrong.

Even to him.

The girl frowned.

"Strange."

"What is?"

She looked down.

Embarrassed.

"I feel like I've known you for a very long time."

The train suddenly felt too small.

Too quiet.

Too real.

Mingyuan forced a laugh.

"That's impossible."

"Yeah."

She smiled weakly.

"Probably."

But neither believed it.

Outside, another leaf drifted past the window.

Black.

Not gold.

Black.

Mingyuan's breath caught.

Nobody else noticed it.

Only him.

The leaf struck the glass.

And shattered into darkness.

A violent headache exploded behind his eyes.

The train disappeared.

The city vanished.

For a single terrifying second

He stood somewhere else.

A throne.

Black skies.

Countless souls kneeling.

An endless river of the dead.

And himself...

Sitting upon a throne of bones.

A mark burned across his chest.

Two ancient characters.

枯叶

Ku Ye.

Withered Leaf.

A voice echoed through the darkness.

Ancient.

Familiar.

Heartbreaking.

"Mingyuan..."

The world returned.

The train.

The city.

Reality.

Gone was the throne.

Gone was the river.

Gone was the voice.

Mingyuan nearly fell from his seat.

The girl immediately grabbed his arm.

"Hey!"

Concern filled her eyes.

"Are you okay?"

For some reason...

Looking at her hurt.

Not physically.

Something deeper.

Something older.

As though his soul remembered a tragedy his mind could not.

He stared at her.

Speechless.

The girl slowly released his arm.

Neither looked away.

Neither understood why.

The train reached its final station.

Passengers began leaving.

The girl stood.

For a moment it seemed she wanted to say something.

Instead she simply smiled.

A sad smile.

A familiar smile.

One that somehow made his chest ache.

"Maybe we'll meet again."

Then she walked away.

Mingyuan remained frozen.

Watching.

Waiting.

Unable to explain why he suddenly felt terrified.

As though he had just lost something precious.

Again.

Outside the station.

The wind carried a single black leaf through the night.

And somewhere beyond the world of mortals...

Something ancient opened its eyes.

Autumn had begun.

Mingyuan did not sleep that night.

Or perhaps he did.

He could never tell the difference anymore.

Ever since autumn began, reality had become unreliable.

The city outside his apartment was silent.

Rain tapped softly against the glass.

The clock read 2:17 AM.

Yet the black leaf sat on his desk.

Watching him.

At least, it felt like it was.

He knew that was ridiculous.

Leaves did not watch people.

Leaves did not appear from nowhere.

Leaves did not survive after turning black as ash.

And yet...

There it was.

Waiting.

Mingyuan reached toward it.

The moment his fingers touched its surface

Darkness swallowed the room.

He stood beneath a blood-red sky.

The air smelled of ancient rain.

Mountains stretched endlessly across the horizon.

Thousands of black leaves drifted through the wind.

Not one touched the ground.

They simply floated.

As if time itself had stopped.

Mingyuan looked down.

His clothes were different.

Ancient black robes.

Silver embroidery.

A long sword hanging from his waist.

And on his chest

The mark.

枯 叶

Ku Ye.

Burning.

Alive.

Pain shot through his body.

Suddenly voices echoed around him.

Thousands of them.

Crying.

Laughing.

Begging.

Praying.

The voices of countless lives.

Countless deaths.

Countless memories.

Then he saw her.

Standing beneath an enormous crimson tree.

The same woman from his dreams.

The same woman from the train.

The same woman his heart somehow recognized.

Ah-Miao.

This time he could see her clearly.

Her white robes moved gently in the wind.

Golden leaves circled around her.

She looked exactly as she had in reality.

And yet...

Infinitely older.

As though she had lived for ages.

Her eyes met his.

The world became silent.

No wind.

No voices.

Nothing.

Only her.

"Mingyuan."

His breath stopped.

It was the first time he had ever heard her say his name.

Yet somehow...

It sounded familiar.

Painfully familiar.

Like hearing a forgotten song from childhood.

He took a step forward.

"So it really is you."

The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

Ah-Miao smiled sadly.

A smile that carried centuries of loneliness.

"You always say that."

"What?"

"Every autumn."

A chill ran down his spine.

"What do you mean?"

Her eyes lowered.

For a moment she looked heartbroken.

"As if you're surprised to find me."

The wind suddenly grew stronger.

Leaves began spinning around them.

Mingyuan's chest burned.

The mark glowed brighter.

Questions flooded his mind.

Who was she?

Why did she know him?

Why did everything feel familiar?

Most importantly

Why did seeing her hurt so much?

He opened his mouth.

Before he could speak

Ah-Miao whispered:

"You don't have much time."

The sky cracked.

Like shattered glass.

Dark fractures spread across the heavens.

The dream began collapsing.

"Mingyuan."

Her voice trembled.

"Listen carefully."

The world shook violently.

The crimson tree started disappearing.

The mountains faded.

Everything was vanishing.

"What is happening?" he shouted.

Ah-Miao looked directly into his eyes.

For the first time, fear appeared on her face.

"Autumn has begun."

The answer made no sense.

Yet somehow it terrified him.

She continued.

"When the last autumn ends..."

Her voice weakened.

"You must remember."

"Remember what?"

The fractures widened.

The dream broke apart.

Ah-Miao's form began dissolving into golden light.

She smiled one final time.

A smile filled with hope.

And sorrow.

And love.

The kind of love that survives lifetimes.

"You promised me."

Mingyuan stepped forward.

His heart pounded.

"What promise?"

But it was too late.

The dream shattered.

He woke up gasping.

The room was dark.

The rain had stopped.

The clock read 4:03 AM.

His entire body was covered in sweat.

His chest burned.

Mingyuan rushed to the bathroom mirror.

Pulled back his shirt.

And froze.

For the first time in his life

The mark was visible.

Faint.

Black.

Ancient.

Two characters.

枯 叶 (ku ye)

A withered leaf.

The symbol from his dream.

The symbol from the throne.

The symbol he had never seen before.

Yet somehow already knew.

A sudden headache struck him.

Another memory flashed.

A voice.

His own voice.

Ancient.

Powerful.

Broken.

" I don't fear death.

Death has known my name for centuries.

I fear forgetting."

The vision disappeared.

Mingyuan stumbled backward.

His hands trembled.

His breathing became uneven.

The mark remained.

Real.

Impossible.

Yet undeniably real.

Outside his apartment window

A single black leaf drifted through the night.

Far above the mortal world.

Beyond stars.

Beyond Heaven.

Beyond the Underworld.

Something ancient smiled.

The cycle had begun again.

And Autumn was only getting started.

The mark should not have existed.

That was the first thought that entered Mingyuan's mind when morning came.

He stood in front of the bathroom mirror.

The black characters remained.

枯叶

Dark.

Ancient.

As if they had been carved into his skin centuries ago.

No matter how many times he washed his chest, the mark remained.

No matter how hard he rubbed.

No matter how much he wished it away.

It remained.

Watching.

Waiting.

Remembering.

While he could not.

The rest of the day felt unreal.

University lectures became distant noise.

Classmates spoke.

Teachers taught.

Phones rang.

Life continued.

Yet Mingyuan felt detached from all of it.

As though he were an actor performing in someone else's story.

His notebook remained open.

Empty.

The professor was discussing economics.

Mingyuan was drawing leaves.

Black leaves.

Again and again.

Without realizing it.

Until

"You're doing it again."

Mingyuan looked up.

His friend Jian sat beside him.

Concern written across his face.

"What?"

"The staring."

"I wasn't staring."

"You absolutely were."

Jian leaned back.

"You look like somebody who's seen a ghost."

Mingyuan laughed.

A forced laugh.

"If I told you the truth, you'd think I was crazy."

Jian grinned.

"We've been friends for ten years."

"Fair point."

"Try me."

Mingyuan hesitated.

Then shook his head.

"No."

Because some things sounded insane even when they were true.

That evening the rain returned.

The city lights reflected across wet pavement.

Mingyuan found himself walking without purpose.

Past restaurants.

Past shops.

Past strangers living ordinary lives.

How strange.

Millions of people existed.

Millions of stories.

Millions of memories.

Yet somehow his own memories felt incomplete.

Like pages torn from a book.

The thought lingered.

Then he saw her.

Again.

Ah-Miao sat alone inside a small bookstore café.

Reading.

The warm yellow lights illuminated her face.

For a moment everything else disappeared.

Traffic.

Rain.

People.

Noise.

Gone.

Only her remained.

Mingyuan stared through the glass.

His heart immediately betrayed him.

That familiar ache.

That impossible longing.

As though he had spent lifetimes searching for someone he had just met.

Ah-Miao looked up.

Their eyes met.

Again.

The same strange recognition appeared.

She smiled.

Small.

Gentle.

Almost shy.

Then she motioned toward the empty seat across from her.

Five minutes later.

Mingyuan sat opposite her.

Holding a cup of coffee he had no intention of drinking.

Silence.

Comfortable silence.

The kind that shouldn't exist between strangers.

Yet somehow did.

"You followed me."

Ah-Miao smiled.

"You noticed."

"Should I be worried?"

"Probably."

For the first time since meeting her, Mingyuan laughed genuinely.

She laughed too.

And for a brief moment

Something inside him felt whole.

"Can I ask you something?"

Ah-Miao nodded.

"Do you ever feel like you've forgotten something important?"

The question surprised even him.

Her smile faded.

Slowly.

Pain appeared in her eyes.

Deep pain.

Old pain.

The kind that comes from losing something irreplaceable.

"Every autumn."

Mingyuan froze.

The exact same words from the dream.

Every autumn.

She continued staring out the window.

Watching rain slide across the glass.

"Sometimes I wake up crying."

Her voice was quiet.

"I don't know why."

Mingyuan listened.

"Sometimes I miss someone."

A pause.

"Someone whose face I can't remember."

Another pause.

"But every year when autumn comes..."

She looked directly at him.

"...the feeling returns."

Neither spoke.

Neither needed to.

Because for the first time

They were not alone in their confusion.

That night.

The dreams returned.

Stronger than before.

Much stronger.

Mingyuan stood within a palace built from darkness.

Thousands of black candles burned.

Ancient pillars stretched endlessly upward.

At the center of the hall stood a throne.

His throne.

And before it

Millions of souls knelt.

A sea of endless spirits.

Their voices echoed together.

"LORD MINGYUAN."

The title shook the palace.

The title shook reality itself.

The title terrified him.

Because he knew it.

Not from the dream.

From memory.

A memory he should not possess.

A memory older than his current life.

Older than the city.

Older than history.

Older than humanity.

The mark upon his chest erupted with pain.

枯叶

Burning brighter.

Brighter.

Brighter.

Then

A woman appeared.

Ah-Miao.

Not mortal.

Not human.

Divine.

Golden light surrounded her.

Stars floated around her like servants.

The entire palace seemed to bow before her existence.

Yet her eyes were filled with tears.

"Mingyuan."

The way she spoke his name shattered him.

As though she had spent centuries waiting to say it.

She took one step forward.

Then another.

And another.

Until she stood before him.

Close enough to touch.

Close enough to remember.

"Mingyuan..."

A tear rolled down her cheek.

"You promised."

Again.

That sentence.

The same sentence.

The same sorrow.

The same unfinished story.

"What did I promise?"

His voice cracked.

The answer mattered.

He could feel it.

More than anything.

But Ah-Miao simply smiled.

A heartbreaking smile.

And whispered:

"You promised that this lifetime would be our last."

Mingyuan woke up screaming.

The mark burned like fire.

The room trembled.

The window shattered.

Black leaves exploded into the apartment.

Dozens.

Hundreds.

Thousands.

Swirling around him.

As if answering a forgotten king.

As if welcoming him home.

And for the first time

A voice emerged from within the mark itself.

Ancient.

Cold.

Patient.

Waiting.

"Remember, Lord of the Underworld."

The leaves froze.

The voice continued.

"The Divine One has awakened."

Silence.

Then one final sentence.

A sentence that made Mingyuan's blood run cold.

"The final autumn has begun."

Outside.

Far beyond the mortal world.

A colossal tree stretched across the heavens.

Its branches held countless black leaves.

All but one had fallen.

Only a single leaf remained.

Waiting.

For the end.

Or the beginning.