Chapter 1

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events are imaginary.

The last bell rang, sharp and shrill, echoing through the narrow street outside the school gates. Students spilled out in noisy waves laughter, chatter, bags thumping against backs.

Xin-ye didn’t wait.

She bolted.

Her shoes slapped against the pavement as she sprinted down the crowded street, weaving past bicycles and slow walkers. The late afternoon sun burned warm against her skin, and the wind tugged at the ribbon in her hair.

Behind her came the familiar voice she both loved and despised.

“Xin-ye! Stop running like a criminal!”

She grinned despite herself.

Lin was right behind her.

Two minutes younger. Two minutes more annoying.

“I am not running!” she shouted over her shoulder. “You’re just slow!”

“Oh really?” Lin called back, speeding up. “Then why are you out of breath already?”

“I am not—!”

Her foot caught on an uneven patch of pavement.

The world tilted.

And then

Pain.

Xin-ye hit the ground hard. Her palms scraped first, then her knees. A sharp sting shot through her legs as skin met rough concrete. The sound of passing footsteps didn’t stop. No one cared.

For a second, she just stayed there, stunned.

Then came the shadow.

Lin stood over her, hands on his hips, breathing only slightly harder than usual.

“You seriously can’t run properly?” he said, shaking his head. “Should I call an ambulance for your two-minute seniority?”

Xin-ye shot him a murderous glare.

“I am older than you,” she snapped, pushing herself up carefully. Her knees burned. “Show some respect. Or I swear, next time you need help with math, I’ll pretend you don’t exist.”

“You’re older by two minutes. Congratulations. Should I bow?” he muttered.

“Yes.”

Lin crouched slightly to examine her scraped knee.

It wasn’t just a faint scratch. A shallow strip of skin had scraped away, leaving a raw red patch. Thin lines of blood gathered along the surface, one drop slowly sliding down before she wiped it away. Dust clung stubbornly to the open skin.

Lin’s teasing expression faltered slightly. “That actually looks bad.”

She winced as she stood fully. The pain was sharper now — throbbing, raw. She hated that her eyes felt slightly watery. Crying in front of Lin was illegal.

“Come on,” he said, turning away. “If you sit there any longer, grass might grow around you.”

She limped after him.

“Say ‘big sister’ once,” she demanded.

“In your dreams.”

They walked in silence for a few seconds. The teasing had softened, but Xin-ye’s knees still burned. She could feel the scrape every time the fabric brushed against it.

Then suddenly—

Her foot hit something solid.

She looked down.

Something shimmered between the cracks of the pavement.

Xin-ye bent down slowly, brushing dust aside.

A necklace.

Delicate. Silver chain. A small crystal pendant that caught the sunlight and fractured it into tiny sparks.

Her breath slowed.

It looked… expensive.

“Why did you stop again?” Lin groaned, turning back. “You’re not fainting now, are you?”

She ignored him.

“Look at this,” she whispered, almost to herself.

Lin stepped closer.

The crystal flashed as she lifted it.

His teasing expression faded slightly. “That’s not cheap.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said softly. The way it reflected light felt almost… alive.

“Where did you get it?” he asked sharply.

She blinked at him. “From the ground?”

“Don’t lie.”

She stood up straight. “Excuse me?”

“You didn’t take it from someone’s bag or something, right?”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Do you have a death wish?”

“I’m just saying—”

“I found it. Here.” She pointed to the pavement. “And since no one’s claiming it, it’s mine.”

“That’s not how law works.”

“Well, good thing you’re not a lawyer.”

Before he could argue further, she clasped the necklace around her neck.

The crystal settled against her collarbone.

For a second—

Something warm pulsed against her skin.

So faint she almost imagined it.

“How does it look?” she asked, spinning once despite her injured knees.

Lin tilted his head.

“It looks,” he began thoughtfully, “like trash wearing a diamond.”

There it was.

She lunged.

“LIN!”

He burst into laughter and ran.

She chased him, ignoring the sting in her legs, adrenaline drowning out the pain.

Neither of them noticed—

For a brief flicker—

The crystal glowed.

Just once.

Then went still.

Neither of them noticed.

By the time they reached home, the sky had darkened into soft shades of violet. The house lights were already on.

Their mother stood near the doorway, arms folded.

She had that look.

“Why are you two late?” she asked, her voice calm but edged with warning.

Lin didn’t hesitate. He pointed dramatically at his sister.

“Mom, she tripped on the road and almost cried like a two-year-old.”

Xin-ye smacked the back of his head.

“I did not cry!”

“You did”

Their mother’s attention shifted instantly. “You fell?”

Her tone changed. Softer. Worried.

Xin-ye nodded, suddenly feeling the sting in her knees again just from remembering it. “Yeah… my knees got scratched.”

“Show me.”

Xin-ye bent slightly and––

She froze.

Her skin was smooth.

No redness.

No scrape.

Not even dust.

Her breath hitched.

“That’s…” she whispered.

Their mother’s brows tightened. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“No!” Xin-ye looked up quickly. “I swear, Mom. It was––.”

Lin stepped forward. “I saw it. It was bad.”

Their mother’s patience snapped. “Then where is it?”

Silence filled the hallway.

Xin-ye touched her knee slowly, pressing hard.

Nothing.

No pain.

Her stomach dropped.

“I’m not lying…” she murmured, but it sounded weak even to her own ears.

Their mother sighed sharply. “This is the last time I tolerate this nonsense. Go to your rooms.”

They didn’t argue.

They couldn’t.

Xin-ye sat on the edge of her bed later that night, staring at her knees.

She pressed again.

Still nothing.

The memory of the sting was clear. The rough concrete. The warmth of blood.

So where had it gone?

Lin knocked lightly and walked into her room without waiting.

“So,” he said casually, leaning against the wall, “are you secretly Wolverine now?”

Xin-ye rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” He stepped closer. “You were bleeding.”

“I know.”

“And now you’re not.”

She didn’t respond.

The silence between them felt heavier than usual.

Lin’s expression slowly shifted from teasing to thoughtful.

“I saw it,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t that small.”

Her stomach tightened.

“Then explain it,” she snapped. “Because I can’t.”

He looked around her room absently, eyes landing on her study table.

A small fruit knife lay beside a half-cut apple from earlier.

He noticed it.

He didn’t touch it.

But his gaze lingered.

Xin-ye followed his eyes.

“No,” she said immediately.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t have to.”

Another silence.

The air felt tense.

“What if,” Lin said slowly, choosing his words carefully, “we just check?”

Her throat went dry.

“Check what?”

“If it heals again.”

Her heart began pounding.

“That’s insane.”

“I’m not saying do something crazy,” he replied. “Just… a tiny scratch.”

She stared at the fruit knife.

It suddenly looked sharper than before.

“This is stupidity,” she muttered.

But doubt had already taken root.

If it heals…

Then something’s wrong.

If it doesn’t…

Then she just cut herself for nothing.

Her fingers slowly moved toward the knife.

“Xin-ye,” Lin said more firmly now, “don’t.”

She stopped.

“What if it doesn’t heal?” she whispered.

He didn’t answer.

That scared her.

She picked up the knife.

Her hand trembled slightly.

“This is crazy,” she said again.

“Then don’t do it,” Lin replied quickly. “Forget it.”

She nodded.

“Yeah. Forget it.”

She placed the knife back on the table.

Both of them exhaled.

For a moment, it was over.

Then—

As she turned, her hand brushed against the edge.

A sharp sting shot across her palm.

She gasped.

The knife clattered to the floor.

“Xin-ye!”

A thin cut had opened across her skin.

Not deep.

But enough.

Blood surfaced slowly.

Both of them froze.

Neither moved.

Neither spoke.

One second.

Two.

Three.

The blood didn’t drip.

It thinned.

Faded.

Like it was being erased.

The skin began to seal itself, the red line shrinking until—

Nothing remained.

Smooth. Untouched. As if it had never existed.

Lin took a slow step back, his face draining of colour.

“That’s not possible,” he said under his breath.

Xin-ye couldn’t stop staring at her palm. Her voice came out thin.

“It hurt,” she whispered. “I know it did.”

Silence settled between them, thick and suffocating.

Lin looked up at her, something uneasy flickering in his eyes.

“Xin-ye… that doesn’t just happen.” he whispered.

“I know,” she breathed.

Her pulse thundered in her ears.

And then—

A warmth bloomed at her collarbone.

They both looked down at the same time.

The crystal necklace shimmered faintly.

Not bright.

Not dramatic.

But alive.

Lin swallowed.

“That thing––Take it off,”

Xin-ye touched the pendant lightly.

It was warm.

And for the first time—

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to take it off.

— End of Chapter One —

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