The Inner and Outer Worlds

When was it, exactly, that I lost all feeling? Joy, love, fear, sorrow… what did any of these taste like? I can no longer remember at all.

To exist alone in this world…

Is it lonely?

No.

Because even the feeling called loneliness has long since been forgotten.

Emotionless.

Yan Luo opened his eyes and found himself standing amidst a swirling mist—white, black, crimson, violet… mists of every color, painting the space in a confused, shifting tapestry. The fog rolled and surged, ever changing.

“Where is this?”

If it had been an ordinary person, suddenly finding themselves transported from home to such a place, they would have been seized by terror and confusion. Yan Luo, however, gazed calmly, without a ripple of fear.

“This… is the landscape within your heart.”

A voice surfaced within: “Venture into the depths of the mist. Seek out the power of destiny.”

Looking down, Yan Luo glimpsed, faintly through the haze, a path paved with stone slabs stretching forward. After a silent pause, he began to walk. The narrow path twisted and turned, destination unknown. White flakes began drifting down through the air.

Snowflakes.

The world was utterly still, save for the soft, crisp “pat, pat, pat” of Yan Luo’s footsteps on the stone. Snow settled quietly upon him.

The mist parted around him.

In the distance, the fog still coiled thickly.

Yan Luo halted. He saw that on either side of this path, whose end he could not see, crimson flowers bloomed in profusion—vivid as blood. He recognized them