Whispers of the Blind

***

The next morning, Yun Guo sat by the stream, running his hands over the smooth surface of the bead he had found. The forest was quiet, save for the rustling of leaves and the soft murmuring of the water. He tried to focus on the sound, on the sensation of the cool breeze brushing against his face, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

"Lin Yi," he murmured. "Where are you?"

Unbeknownst to him, Lin Yi was once again watching from the shadows, her heart aching at the sadness in his voice. She clutched the embroidered cloth she had made, her fingers trembling as she debated her next move.

She couldn't speak to him. She couldn't explain why she was here, why she had run, or how much she regretted not staying. But maybe… just maybe… she could show him.

Taking a deep breath, Lin Yi stepped out of her hiding place and crept toward the stream. Yun Guo was facing away from her, his attention on the bead in his hand. Slowly, she knelt by the bank and placed the cloth on a smooth rock just within his reach.

Her heart raced as she backed away, retreating into the trees before he could sense her presence.

Yun Guo shifted slightly, his fingers brushing against something unfamiliar on the ground. He froze, his senses alert, before carefully picking up the object.

It was soft and delicate, with intricate embroidery that his fingers traced slowly. Though he couldn't see it, he could feel the careful stitching of his name on the cloth.

A lump formed in his throat. "What is this?"

The craftsmanship was familiar—too familiar. Memories of Lin Yi sewing little gifts for friends during their university days rushed back to him. He remembered her nimble fingers working tirelessly on scarves, handkerchiefs, and even tiny pouches she used to hand out during festivals.

"Lin Yi…" he whispered, his voice trembling.

The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. She was here. She had been watching him, leaving this behind as a sign.

"Lin Yi!" he called, standing abruptly. His hand gripped the cloth tightly as he turned toward the forest. "I know you're here. Please, don't hide."

But the forest remained silent.

"Why won't you come to me?" he shouted, his voice breaking. "I need to know why you're here!"

Hidden among the trees, Lin Yi covered her mouth to stifle a sob. Hearing his voice, raw with emotion, made her want to run to him, to tell him everything. But the weight of her silence held her back.

What would she do if he asked why she hadn't spoken? How could she explain the deal she had made—the price she had paid?

Her hand tightened around the bracelet on her wrist. She had made this choice to see him again, but it had also left her powerless to say the things she had kept bottled up for so long.

"I'm sorry," she thought, her tears falling silently.

Yun stood by the stream for a long time, clutching the cloth as his mind raced. If Lin Yi was in this world, then she had paid a price to be here, just as he had. But why was she hiding? Why wouldn't she face him?

He sat down heavily on the grass, the cloth still in his hands. "If you're listening, Lin Yi," he said quietly, "I don't know how or why you're here, but… I'm glad."

His voice softened, and his fingers traced the embroidery again. "I just want to talk to you. Please. Don't be afraid."

Lin Yi watched from the shadows, her heart breaking at his words. She wanted to answer him, but all she could do was stay silent.

For now, all she could offer were small gestures—tokens to remind him he wasn't alone.

That evening, Yun returned to the small house Elder Zhang had offered him. He placed the cloth carefully on the table beside the Lightstone, his mind still turning over the day's events.

As he sat on the edge of the bed, exhaustion finally creeping in, a faint scent reached him—soft, floral, and achingly familiar.

"Lin Yi…" he whispered, his voice tinged with both hope and sadness.

Unseen by him, Lin Yi had slipped into the room, placing a small bundle of flowers on the table beside the cloth. She lingered for a moment, watching him, her heart aching with the weight of her unspoken words.

Yun reached out, his fingers brushing against the petals. His breath caught as he recognized the fragrance. It was the same flower she used to press into books back in the main world—a habit she had picked up in university.

"You were here," he said softly, holding the flowers carefully in his hands.

He turned his head slightly, as if sensing her presence, and for a brief moment, Lin Yi thought he might find her. But she stayed silent, slipping back into the shadows before he could confirm her presence.

As the days passed, Lin Yi continued to leave small tokens for Yun—a pressed flower here, a folded note there. Though she couldn't write his name, she left simple symbols that she hoped he would recognize: a tiny crane folded from a leaf, the scent of her favorite tea brewing nearby.

And slowly, Yun began to feel her presence more strongly.

Though he couldn't see her, he could sense her near him at times, the same way he had felt the Scouts before the battle. But this presence was different—warm, familiar, and comforting.

"You're near," he said one day, standing in the clearing near the stream. "I don't know why you're hiding, Lin Yi, but I'll wait. I'll wait as long as it takes."

Lin Yi, hidden behind a tree, felt her heart swell at his words. Though fear still held her back, she promised herself she would find a way to reach him—to connect with him, even if she couldn't speak.

***