A FIRE BETWEEN TWO WORLDS

Seven days had passed since Zhao Ming fell from the sky. Seven days he lay unconscious in the silk merchant's carriage, only occasionally mouthing names that were foreign to the ears of his listeners. Seven days Lang Fei watched him with a suspicious gaze, hand always ready on the hilt of his sword.

At the dawn of the eighth day, when the sun was just peeking out from behind the mountains in the distance, Zhao Ming finally opened his eyes. They were no longer the fiery red eyes of a fire god, but the black eyes of an ordinary man-though there was a strange, inexplicable glint in them.

"He's awake," said a young merchant who was guarding him.

Lang Fei immediately approached, his sword half unsheathed. "Who are you?" he asked harshly, leaning over his massive body covered in battle scars.

Zhao Ming stared around him in confusion. The wooden cart creaked softly to the rhythm of the camel's steps pulling it. Outside, the Gobi desert stretched to the horizon. He tried to sit up, but his head throbbed violently.

"I..." he paused. His brow furrowed deeply. "I don't know."

"Don't pretend," Lang Fei growled, his sword now touching Zhao Ming's neck. "No one falls from the sky for no reason. You must be a spy, or worse, a witch."

"Lang Fei, stand back," ordered the caravan leader, an old man named Hu Wei who had traveled the Silk Road for forty years. "Look at his eyes. He really doesn't remember."

Lang Fei snorted but drew his sword. "Very timely amnesia."

Zhao Ming touched his neck and found a gently glistening jade necklace. "What is this?" he asked more to himself.

"It's yours," Hu Wei replied, handing him a bowl of water. "You were wearing it when we found you lying in the desert. You also kept saying the name 'Mei Lian' in your sleep."

The name sparked something in Zhao Ming's mind. An image of a beautiful face with long black hair fluttered in the wind. But the shadow vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"Mei Lian..." he whispered, feeling an inexplicable sense of loss.

"Maybe that's your wife's name," Hu Wei said with a wise smile. "Or your lover. Memories of our loved ones are usually the hardest to lose."

Zhao Ming shook his head slowly. "I can't remember it clearly. Just... feelings."

"What about your own name?" asked Hu Wei again.

Zhao Ming was silent for a moment, closing his eyes, trying to pierce through the thick fog that shrouded his memories. "Zhao... Ming," he finally replied. "My name is Zhao Ming."

Lang Fei snorted. "At least he remembers his name. Progress."

"We'll arrive in Chang'an in two days," Hu Wei said, ignoring Lang Fei's sarcasm. "You can rest on the train until we arrive. Maybe the big city will help restore your memory."

Zhao Ming nodded his thanks. His hand still clutched the jade necklace, as if it was his last anchor to the lost past.

That night, as the caravan rested in a small oasis, Zhao Ming tried to be alone. He sat under a date palm tree, looking up at the starry sky that felt both foreign and familiar.

"The same stars look different from here," he muttered absently, then was stunned by his own words. From here? Then where was he supposed to see the stars from?

The sound of heavy steps approached him. Lang Fei stood before him, carrying two bowls of wine.

"Drink up," Lang Fei said, offering one bowl. "Desert wine. It can burn your throat, but it can also revive your dead memories."

Zhao Ming accepted it hesitantly. He took a small sip and immediately coughed. It felt like liquid fire was flowing down his throat. But strangely, the sensation wasn't completely foreign.

"Fire..." he said softly. "There's something about fire..."

Lang Fei looked at him sharply. "You feel familiar with fire?"

Zhao Ming nodded doubtfully. "I don't know. Like fire is a part of me."

"You fell from the sky unharmed," Lang Fei said, now sitting beside him. "Your robes were scorched, but your skin wasn't scratched. I've seen many strange things on the silk road, but never anything like this."

"Why are you so suspicious of me?" asked Zhao Ming directly.

Lang Fei smiled sarcastically. "Because I recognize danger when I see it. And you, Zhao Ming, are dangerous."

"How can you be sure? I don't know who I am myself."

"That's precisely what makes you dangerous," Lang Fei gulped down his wine. "But I'm also curious. And curiosity always trumps caution."

They fell silent, letting the sound of the desert wind fill the silence. In the distance, merchants sang and laughed around the campfire.

"Why did you join this caravan?" asked Zhao Ming finally.

Lang Fei snorted. "Who says I have to answer your question?"

"It's fair. You question me, I question you."

"Fair?" Lang Fei laughed bitterly. "There's nothing fair in this world, Zhao Ming who's lost his memory. But fine, let's call it an exchange. I joined the caravan because I was running away."

"From what?"

"From my past." Lang Fei pointed at the long scar on his face. "And from the people who gave me this."

Zhao Ming nodded slowly. There was a strange affinity he felt with this rough man. Both of them were running from something-though Zhao Ming wasn't sure what he was running from.

"Tomorrow I'll teach you how to fight," Lang Fei said suddenly.

"Why?"

"Because you know nothing, and this world doesn't take kindly to people who know nothing." Lang Fei stood up. "And because of your hands."

"My hands?"

"Yes. Your hands are the hands of a fighter. I can see it from the callus and the way you hold the bowl. Your body remembers, even if your mind forgets."

With that, Lang Fei strode away, leaving Zhao Ming in deepening confusion.

In Chang'an, Xiao Ying stayed up all night in the palace observatory tower. The stars shifted too quickly, dancing in patterns she'd never seen before. As the palace astronomer, she was responsible for predicting the future based on the movements of celestial bodies. But tonight, the sky seemed to be speaking a language he did not understand.

"Xiao Ying," a soft voice greeted from behind her.

Princess Yue Hua, Crown Prince Li Chen's younger sister, stood in the doorway. The sixteen-year-old girl was beautiful and intelligent, the only member of the royal family who treated Xiao Ying as a friend, not just a servant.

"Your Highness," Xiao Ying bowed respectfully. "You shouldn't be here alone in the middle of the night."

Yue Hua smiled mischievously. "It's usually you who sneaks into the pavilion because you can't sleep. Tonight, it's my turn to be unable to sleep."

Xiao Ying smiled weakly. She and Princess Yue Hua often shared stories at night, when the palace was quiet. "Another nightmare?"

Yue Hua nodded, coming closer to the window where Xiao Ying was watching the sky. "The same dream. Flames everywhere. Palaces burning in the sky. And a man... a man with a flaming sword calling out to me."

Xiao Ying gasped. "Called you? By what name?"

"Not my name," Yue Hua looked up at the starry sky. "He called me 'Mei Lian'."

The world seemed to stop spinning for Xiao Ying. Over the past week, she had also dreamt of fire and destruction. But she never heard the name in her dreams.

"Your Majesty," she said carefully. "May I ask you something that might sound strange?"

"Of course."

"In your dreams, do you feel... like someone else? Like you have memories and feelings that don't belong to you?"

Yue Hua's eyes widened. "How do you know?" she whispered. "In the dream, I could control the wind, Xiao Ying. The wind! And I felt sad, so sad that I had to part with someone."

Xiao Ying swallowed hard. She looked back up at the sky, at the shifting constellations. "The Fire Star is moving towards us," she said softly. "Something is coming, Your Majesty. Or someone is."

Yue Hua followed the direction of Xiao Ying's gaze. "Is it dangerous?"

"I don't know," Xiao Ying replied honestly. "But I think... it's coming for you."

"Or for you," Yue Hua whispered, not knowing where the thought came from. "Sometimes I look at you and feel... like looking in a mirror."

The silence that followed was heavy with mystery. Beneath the observatory tower, Prince Li Chen stood in the shadows, listening intently to every word. His cold eyes flashed in the darkness.

"So, the wind goddess appeared in my sister's dream," he muttered to himself. "How interesting."

He strode away with silent steps, his royal robes sweeping across the stone floor. In his room, an ancient mirror waited, ready to hold a report for its true master.

Dawn broke with an unusual red tinge. The silk merchants began packing their belongings, preparing to make the final journey to Chang'an.

Zhao Ming stood at the edge of the oasis, shirtless, swinging a wooden sword in slow but measured movements. Lang Fei watched him with an appraising gaze.

"Your body remembers," Lang Fei said, nodding in satisfaction. "Your movements are not those of a beginner."

"But it feels... wrong," Zhao Ming said, stopping his practice. "As if I'm used to something more... light? Sharper?"

Lang Fei raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you're used to a better sword. A soldier's sword, or even a nobleman's sword."

"You think I'm a soldier?"

"Or a deserter." Lang Fei shrugged. "Clearly, you're no ordinary person, Zhao Ming. Not with such skill."

Zhao Ming returned the wooden sword to Lang Fei. "Thank you for the lesson."

"The lesson isn't over yet," Lang Fei said. "When we arrive in Chang'an, I'll teach you more. You need skills to survive."

"Why do you care?" asked Zhao Ming, curious.

Lang Fei was silent for a moment. "Because you remind me of someone."

"Who?"

"Myself, back in the day," Lang Fei replied shortly. "Before the world taught me not to trust anyone."

The answer surprised Zhao Ming. Beneath his gruff demeanor, Lang Fei turned out to harbor a kindness that was tightly hidden.

Hu Wei walked over to them, bringing a new robe for Zhao Ming. "Put this on. We'll arrive in Chang'an this afternoon. You can't enter the capital with a scorched robe."

"Thank you," Zhao Ming said, accepting the dark blue robe. "I don't know how to repay your kindness."

Hu Wei smiled wisely. "Everyone needs help once in a while, young man. Even those who fall from the sky."

The day's journey was peaceful until late afternoon. The caravan drove along the main road towards Chang'an, joining the other merchants and farmers also heading towards the capital. Zhao Ming enjoyed the view of the desert gradually turning into green grassland.

The peace was disturbed when a shout rang out from the front of the caravan.

"Robbers! Black Desert Robbers!"

Lang Fei immediately drew his sword. "Stay in the carriage," he ordered Zhao Ming.

"I can help," Zhao Ming said, feeling his blood rippling with familiar adrenaline.

"With what, your wooden sword?" Lang Fei snorted. "Stay on the train!"

But Zhao Ming wasn't listening. Something inside him rose up, an urge to protect that he couldn't ignore. He jumped off the train, snatching a knife from one of the terrified merchants.

The Black Desert raiders, about twenty of them, surrounded the caravan with their horses. Their faces were covered in black cloth, leaving only their eyes glinting cruelly.

"Hand over your valuables, and maybe we'll let you live!" shouted their leader.

Lang Fei stood tall in front of the caravan, sword drawn. "Black Desert," he grumbled. "I thought you were wiped out after your leader's head was displayed at Chang'an gate."

"New leader, old rules," the raider replied. "Oh, wait. Aren't you Lang Fei? The Treacherous Wolf?"

Lang Fei growled. "So, Li Kuang took over after my rumored death? Very clever."

"Our former leader will be happy to see you again," the robber said, signaling his men to attack. "Or at least, to see your head on the tip of his spear!"

Battle broke out. Lang Fei fought with admirable skill, his sword slashing through two robbers at once. But there were too many of them.

Zhao Ming found himself surrounded by three robbers. His hands trembled, not from fear, but rather from the sudden wave of memories attacking him. The battle. Fire. Swords that glowed red.

"Pilu Feng Huang," he whispered, the name emerging from the depths of his memories.

One of the robbers attacked. Without thinking, Zhao Ming moved, his body spinning in a deadly dance he didn't realize he knew. The knife in his hand sliced through the robber's arm, making the man scream in pain.

"Who is he?" another robber shouted. "He moves like a court soldier!"

Zhao Ming didn't answer. He continued to move, each movement carrying faint memories. He had fought like this before, but not on the grassland, but in... the clouds?

Suddenly, a robber on horseback darted towards him, a spear pointed at his chest. Zhao Ming knew he couldn't dodge in time. In that moment of desperation, he raised his hand instinctively, as if to summon something.

"Fire!" he shouted.

And fire answered his call.

From his palm, a jet of flame shot out, hitting the horseman. The man fell off his horse, screaming in pain as his clothes caught fire.

The entire battle stopped instantly. All eyes were on Zhao Ming, who stared at his own hands in disbelief.

"Witch!" shouted one of the robbers in fear. "She's a witch!"

The robbers retreated, fear overcoming their greed. Even Lang Fei looked shocked, his sword halting in midair.

"Retreat!" the robber leader ordered. "We're not paid to fight witches!"

As quickly as they came, the robbers disappeared, leaving behind dust and confusion.

Zhao Ming was still staring at his hand that was now normal again. There were no signs of fire or burns. Yet he could feel a strange warmth coursing through his veins.

"What... just happened?" he asked, more to himself.

Lang Fei approached him with wary steps. "That's what I wanted to ask," he said, sword still drawn. "Who are you, Zhao Ming?"

All the merchants backed away, fear radiating from their eyes. Only Hu Wei remained calm, looking at Zhao Ming with a gaze that was now filled with curiosity.

"I don't know," Zhao Ming replied honestly, clutching his jade necklace. "But I don't think this is the first time I've summoned fire."

Lang Fei lowered his sword slowly. "You're right. You're no ordinary person," he said. "And we have to find out who you really are before someone else does."

"How?"

"Chang'an," Lang Fei said. "The biggest city in the world. If there's an answer to this mystery, we'll find it there."

Chang'an appeared on the horizon like a dream. The city walls were tall and imposing, surrounded by a wide moat that glistened in the afternoon sun. Giant gates opened to welcome travelers, escorted by soldiers in shiny armor.

"Welcome to the capital of the Tang Dynasty," Hu Wei said to a mesmerized Zhao Ming. "The center of the world, where all roads end and begin."

Zhao Ming felt something strange as he gazed up at the observatory tower that rose in the center of the city. A tug, as if something-or someone-was calling his name.

The caravan entered the city through the West Gate, joining the crowd of other merchants. Voices from different languages mingled with the scent of exotic spices and the clink of silver coins.

"We're going to the silk market," Hu Wei said. "You and Lang Fei are free to follow us, or find your own way."

Lang Fei looked at Zhao Ming. "We need to find a safe inn. A place where you can... practice without attracting attention."

"Practice?"

"Your strength," Lang Fei said quietly. "If you want to survive in Chang'an, you must learn to control it. And I need answers about who you really are."

Zhao Ming nodded. He turned to Hu Wei and bowed deeply. "Thank you for all your kindness. I owe you my life."

Hu Wei smiled. "Be careful, young man. Chang'an can be heaven or hell, depending on where you are." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bag of silver coins. "Take it. Think of it as capital to start your new life."

Zhao Ming accepted with deep gratitude. In this strange world, Hu Wei's kindness was like a light in the midst of darkness.

Lang Fei took Zhao Ming down the streets of Chang'an, towards the less luxurious southern districts that were safer from the scrutiny of officials. They found a simple inn called "Quiet Moon" run by an elderly widow.

"Two rooms," Lang Fei told the owner. "And we need privacy."

"Two silver taels for the week," the old woman replied matter-of-factly.

As they made their way to their rooms, Zhao Ming noticed the strange looks from the other guests.

"They're looking at me," Zhao Ming whispered to Lang Fei.

"Of course they are. You're a foreigner, with the clothes of a merchant but the hands of a fighter." Lang Fei opened the door to Zhao Ming's room. "Get some rest. Tonight we'll talk more."

The room was cramped but clean. A wooden cot with a thin mattress, a small table, and a window overlooking the royal palace in the distance. Zhao Ming sat on the edge of the divan, staring at his hand that had launched a flame.

"Who am I really?" he whispered to the silence.

In the palace observatory tower, Xiao Ying snapped out of her meditation. Something had changed in the city's qi flow. Something powerful had entered Chang'an.

She quickly unrolled her sky map, checking the positions of the stars. The Fire Star was now directly above Chang'an, alongside the Wind Star in a pattern he had never seen before.

"He's here," he muttered, heart pounding. Without thinking, he wrote a short message and called his white dove.

"Go to the Moon Pavilion," he whispered, tying the message to the bird's leg. "For Princess Yue Hua only."

The bird flew off, disappearing in the direction of the inner palace complex. Xiao Ying returned to her sky map, her fingers trembling as she traced the star patterns.

"Seven days of chaos," she whispered, reading the ancient prophecy written on the edge of the map. "When fire meets wind, the world will shake."

The night in Chang'an was filled with the light of lanterns and music from the wine taverns. Zhao Ming and Lang Fei sat in the corner of a small tavern, talking in low voices amidst the din.

"Tell me what you remember," Lang Fei said, pouring wine into Zhao Ming's bowl. "Every detail, no matter how small."

Zhao Ming closed his eyes, trying to penetrate the fog that shrouded his memories. "The fire. The sword. Palace in... clouds?"

"Palace in the clouds," Lang Fei repeated skeptically. "Are you sure it wasn't just a dream?"

"It feels too real to be a dream," Zhao Ming opened his eyes. "There was a big battle. Someone sent me to... look for something."

"What were you looking for?"

"A mirror, I think. A mirror with... nine flames?" Zhao Ming shook his head in frustration. "My memories are like scattered pieces of glass."

Lang Fei took a sip of his wine. "Nine Flame Mirror," he said quietly. "I've heard legends about it."

"Do you recognize it?"

"Just a story told by merchants on long nights in the desert," Lang Fei shrugged. "It's said that the mirror is a sacred artifact that can open the gates between the world of humans and the world of the gods."

Zhao Ming's heart beat faster. "Gods," he whispered. "I remember something about... gods."

Lang Fei gave him a probing look. "You think you're a god?"

"I don't know," Zhao Ming replied honestly. "But I can summon fire from my hands. That's not an ordinary human ability, is it?"

"In Chang'an, there are many illusionists and street 'magicians' who can perform similar tricks," Lang Fei said, though his tone of voice suggested he didn't entirely believe his own words. "But I agree, what you did just now... it wasn't a trick."

They were silent for a moment, each lost in thought.

"We need to find more information about this Nine Flame Mirror," Lang Fei said finally. "If that is indeed what you came here for."

"How?"

"The palace library," Lang Fei replied. "It holds all the knowledge and legends from all over the world."

"And how do we get in? I'm sure not just anyone can enter the palace."

Lang Fei smiled mysteriously. "I have connections. Back then, before becoming the leader of the Black Desert Marauders, I was... well, let's say I have a past in Chang'an."

Zhao Ming raised an eyebrow, surprised. "You're the leader of the robbers they were talking about earlier?"

"Former," Lang Fei corrected. "And technically, I never died. I just... retired early."