Chapter 47 - Flashes of the past

Chapter 47: Chapter 47 - Flashes of the past

"Master... Master..."

Ying Mao slowly opened his eyes when a small voice called out to him. His vision was blurry at first, but after blinking several times, the world in front of him gradually became clearer.

A young boy dressed in traditional Hanfu was standing before him, holding a small flower in both hands.

"I found this for you, Shifu..." The boy carefully held the flower out toward him, his little face carrying a bright smile.

Ying Mao stared at him in confusion.

Where am I? Who is this?

He looked around.

The place looked like the edge of a cliff, but unlike the frightening image that came to mind when he heard the word cliff, this place was strangely peaceful. A huge begonia tree stood behind him, its branches spreading wide enough to cast a cool shadow over the ground. The wind moved gently through the branches, causing the leaves and flowers to sway, and the sweet scent of the blooms drifted through the air.

Everything felt real.

Too real.

What’s happening to me?

Ying Mao slowly lowered his gaze to his hands.

They were no longer the small hands he was used to seeing.

These hands were much larger, the hands of an adult. They were slightly bony, with long fingers and neatly trimmed nails. A small white jade flute rested between his fingers, cool against his skin.

The strange sensation made him shiver.

This isn’t real... I must be dreaming.

But even as he told himself that, panic was already spreading through him.

"Master..."

The little boy leaned closer.

He looked around ten years old, with a small red mark between his brows and a pair of beautiful almond-shaped eyes. He clutched the flower nervously when Ying Mao continued staring at him.

"Are you upset with me again?" he asked quietly. "I swear I didn’t steal this flower. I found it near the edge of the cliff."

Ying Mao didn’t know what to say.

He didn’t know who this child was, where this place was, or why he was suddenly inside an adult body.

How had his small body suddenly become that of a grown man?

Before he could figure anything out, the boy climbed onto his lap and looked up at him.

"Don’t you like it?"

"I..."

Ying Mao swallowed.

"Who are you?"

His own voice startled him.

It was softer and slightly hoarse, completely different from the childish voice he was used to hearing.

The boy’s beautiful eyes widened.

"Master... it’s me. It’s Jua."

"Jua?"

Ying Mao stared at him more carefully.

The boy really did look familiar.

He looked almost eighty percent like Jua Haisin.

Except for his slightly flatter nose and softer, rounder face, almost everything else resembled him. The same eyes, the same general shape of his face, even the way his lips moved when he spoke.

It was like looking at a tiny version of his Jua Ge.

Something inside Ying Mao softened without him even realizing it.

Did Brother Jua look this cute when he was young?

The thought made him smile.

Without thinking, he reached out and pinched the boy’s chubby cheek.

The little boy immediately pouted.

"Master, you can’t keep kneading my cheeks like dough. I might end up looking like a dumpling."

Ying Mao couldn’t help laughing.

"A dumpling..."

He looked at the round-faced child again.

"Yes. You do look like a little dumpling."

"Master!"

The boy puffed out his cheeks.

"You can’t keep making fun of me!"

"Yes, Master. Why do you always tease Little Eight like that?"

Another voice came from behind them.

Ying Mao turned around.

A young man dressed in pale blue Hanfu was walking toward them. He had a gentle appearance and a faint smile on his lips. Without saying much, he bent down and picked up the little boy from Ying Mao’s lap.

"Why don’t Elder Brother take you out for some fun? What do you say?"

"No. I want to stay with Shifu."

The little boy immediately shook his head and tried to reach back toward Ying Mao.

The young man clicked his tongue.

"You really do look like a little dumpling. Master, you can keep this dumpling with you."

He lowered the boy back onto Ying Mao’s lap.

"Everyone keeps teasing me. Hmph! I’m leaving!"

The boy jumped down and ran off into the distance, his long sleeves fluttering behind him.

Ying Mao silently watched him go, a small smile remaining on his face.

For some reason, watching the little boy run around made his heart feel strangely warm.

"You look like you’re in a good mood, Master." The young man sat down beside him. "Little two was asking me to tach him how to make my famous noodles but I told him its only for you, master. No one else can taste it." he reached out and touched the back of his hand.

Then his eyes narrowed slightly.

He looked at Ying Mao carefully. "You..." his expression shifted into confusion. "Who are you?"

Ying Mao’s smile disappeared.

"You are not my Master."

His heart suddenly skipped.

Before he could answer, his vision flashed.

The peaceful scenery disappeared.

Bright white lights were the first thing Ying Mao saw when he opened his eyes again.

Cold tube lights lined the ceiling above him.

For several seconds, he simply stared at them, confused and disoriented.

"Mao Mao."

A familiar voice came from beside him.

Jua Ge leaned closer, his pale face filled with worry. His eyes were slightly red and tired, as though he had been awake for a long time.

"Jua Ge?"

"Hmm." Jua gently touched his cheek. "How are you feeling? Are you in pain?"

Ying Mao slowly shook his head.

No. He wasn’t in pain at all. He just felt confused.

"I had a dream."

Jua smiled faintly. "Yes, I know." He helped Ying Mao sit up carefully. "You kept mumbling about dumplings." He placed a plate of dumplings in front of him. "Here. Eat something."

Ying Mao blankly stared at the food.

Then he looked back at Jua.

His eyes lingered on that familiar face for a long moment.

"What happened to me? Why am I in the hospital?"

The smile on Jua’s face faded slightly. "You had a small heart problem. That’s all." He reached over and adjusted the pillow behind Ying Mao’s back. "The doctors checked you and made sure you’re okay."

Ying Mao lowered his gaze toward the dumplings. It was strange... the dream had felt surreal.

And the strange feeling in his chest whenever he looked at that child named Jua still remained as he gazed at his brother Jua.

He slowly picked up a dumpling.

For some reason, his fingers trembled.

"Jua Ge..."

"Hm?"

"Have you ever..." Ying Mao hesitated. "Have you ever worn clothes like the ones in my dream? Like the ones from Chinese dramas..."

Jua’s hand paused a second before answering him, "No."

Ying Mao lowered his head again. "Oh..."

He didn’t know why, but his chest suddenly felt heavy.

Ying Mao slowly picked up one of the dumplings and took a small bite. The familiar taste should have been comforting, but the moment the soft filling touched his tongue, a strange feeling suddenly washed over him.

A sense of déjà vu.

His fingers froze around the dumpling.

For some reason, he felt as though he had eaten this exact dumpling before. Not in this life, not in this hospital, but somewhere far away that he could no longer remember. The strange feeling became stronger, and before he could make sense of it, his vision blurred again.

The hospital room disappeared.

He was standing beneath the shade of the same large begonia tree, but this time the person sitting in front of him was different. It was Jua Ge—or at least someone who looked exactly like him.

He was older, dressed in the same traditional-style Hanfu, his long hair tied neatly behind him. His expression was gentle as he held a small plate of dumplings toward Ying Mao.

"Eat. You always liked these."

Ying Mao stared at him, his heart suddenly pounding.

The scene felt so real.

The older Jua smiled faintly before picking up a dumpling and bringing it closer to his mouth, almost as though this was something he had done countless times before.

Ying Mao’s chest tightened.

Then the figure in front of him slowly overlapped with the figure sitting beside his hospital bed.

The two faces became one.

Older Jua...

Jua Ge...

They were the same.

His heart lurched so violently that he almost dropped the dumpling in his hand.

The vision disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving him staring blankly at the hospital room again.

"Jua Ge..."

His breathing became uneven. He suddenly clutched his chest tightly, his fingers gripping the fabric of his hospital gown as another strange ache spread through him.

Why did it feel as though he had known Jua Ge for much longer than this lifetime?

And why did seeing that older version of him make his heart hurt so much?

Jua noticed his pale face immediately and leaned closer.

"Mao Mao? What’s wrong?"

Ying Mao looked at him, his eyes filled with confusion and something he couldn’t understand.

For a moment, he wanted to ask him if they had met before.

But the words wouldn’t come out.

He only stared at Jua’s face, trying desperately to remember something that seemed to be just beyond his reach.