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The fox is beautiful, with its snow-white fur, tails fanned out, and a most elegant expression as it stares down at him past a slender snout. When it speaks, its silvery, tenor voice floods his mind like a gentle wave of water.
Where is your family, child of humans?
Luo Binghe lets out a hiccup, globs of tears rolling down his reddened cheeks. The bruises on his jaw throb, a reminder of why he’s here, lost in darkness. “I, I don’t have parents, and the people I live with are mean, a-and… I didn’t know where else to go...”
The fox cocks its head to one side. So you came into my forest?
Sniffling, Luo Binghe picks at the loose piece of bark from a giant tree root. “Sorry, I didn’t know it was yours.”
The fox studies him for a moment longer before it rises gracefully and turns, all nine of its tails flowing behind it. Come with me, it says.
Luo Binghe blinks, his eyes raw and stinging. “Where are we going?”
Soft laughter echoes in his head. Come, child of humans, and you will see.
Hurriedly, Luo Binghe scrambles after the flash of white that streaks off through the trees. “Um, my name is Binghe,” he calls. “What’s yours?”
I do not give my true name to humans, the fox says. But you may call me Huli.
Huli. Fox.
Out of everything that’s happened today, this is the most real, the most comforting.
And when Luo Binghe sees the cozy little den with a bed of colored leaves on one side and a pile of berries and mushrooms on the other, he feels at home for the first time in years.
Huli teaches him to hunt, to hide. To survive.
It’s harder as a human to do all the things Huli asks of him, but he does it anyway. Because as fierce Huli may be, as haughty, the fox leaves Luo Binghe the juiciest part of a rabbit, his favorite berries, the softer side of the bed. And at night, when Luo Binghe shivers from the chill of the wind, Huli curls around him with its fur pressed soft and warm against his skin.
“Huli,” Luo Binghe murmurs one night. His legs are shaking from all the ducking and weaving Huli taught him, but his belly is full from his own successful hunt. Happy is how he feels; happy and oh, so very content.
Mm, the fox says, eyes closed, ears pricking forward.
“Can I call you ‘gege’?”
The ears drop in the silence.
Fine, the fox says.
Luo Binghe smiles into the fur.
Years later, Luo Binghe grows too big for the den.
Huli takes one look at Luo Binghe hunched over in the corner, his knees to his chest, and says, It’s time.
Luo Binghe shifts, careful not to bump his head. “Time for what?”
For a return to your kind.
This time, Luo Binghe does crack his head against the top of their den. Back to humans? Who treated him like he was lower than the bits of dirt raining over him? “Have I done something wrong?” he asks, panicked. “Did I say something to offend Huli-ge? Because if I have, I’m really, truly sorry—”
Binghe, the fox snaps. I want to see how you fare with them.
If Luo Binghe had ears, they’d be drooping right about now.
“Yes, gege.”
Huli takes him to the edge of the forest, where little Luo Binghe climbed over the fence in a desperate effort to escape his pursuers years ago. Where there used to be a dirt path, however, now lies something hard and grey and rough, too hot for his bare feet.
“Gege, what is thi—...” Luo Binghe trails off, eyes gone wide.
In the fox’s place stands a man with fair skin that’s smooth as jade, his dark hair pulled up in a high ponytail. He looks nothing like Huli—from the slender form under pale green robes, to a distinct absence of fur and tails—but Luo Binghe sees Huli in his eyes, the hidden warmth in the brown depths.
Suddenly, Luo Binghe doesn’t find humans so bad.
“Evolution,” Huli says, lips curled. “Humans have turned from nature to these smelly, noisy things that destroy it.”
Luo Binghe’s gaze is riveted on Huli, the way a curl of hair falls artfully across his face, the way his lashes, impossibly long, dip over his eyes. Already, he misses the fox’s voice in his mind, touching him like a gentle caress, but this new form makes it a worthwhile loss. “Why bring me back to humans if you hate them so much?” he asks absently.
“Because there’s something to learn from them.” Huli visibly shudders, as if saying that outloud hurts him to the core. “First things first, we need to get you clothes.”
Luo Binghe nods, still mesmerized. “Yes, gege.”
“Oh,” Huli says, an afterthought. “And don’t call me ‘Huli’ when we are amongst humans.”
Luo Binghe drags his gaze up from Huli’s pink lips. “What should I call you?”
The fox, now human, turns to Luo Binghe.
“Shen Qingqiu.”
Huli—no, Shen Qingqiu, strolls through the towering gates of the village with unyielding confidence. The walk was largely uneventful, save for the one time he’d pushed Luo Binghe to his other side, far from the path, when a strange, shiny creature roared past them with clanking noises and clouds of steam. It’s the only time Luo Binghe sees the pupils in Shen Qingqiu’s eyes constrict, his shoulders rising like hackles.
"Worst thing humans ever made," Shen Qingqiu snarls.
"What is it?" Luo Binghe asks. Moving fast, the strange beast is already a dot in the distance.
"They call it a 'car,'" Shen Qingqiu says, pupils still reduced to slits. "Watch out for those things, Binghe."
"Yes, gege."
Once through the gates, Shen Qingqiu’s caution evaporates and he's unfazed once again, even by the bewildered looks cast on Luo Binghe and his clothes made of leaves.
In just a few years, the village has changed.
The houses are taller, much taller, with rows of windows covering the sides from top to bottom. The path is still covered by grey, lined up with more of the same clanking, puffing object that raced past them. Around them, the people are different too, with hair colors like earth and fall leaves, their skin whiter and paler than the villagers Luo Binghe was familiar with. Their clothes are oddly form-fitting too, and Luo Binghe can’t help but wonder how Shen Qingqiu might look in them, with his trim waist and long, long legs.
“All right, that's enough gawking.”
Shen Qingqiu grabs Luo Binghe’s arm, tugging him into a store with a giant red sign that screams, CLOTHING EMPORIUM.
True to its name, the store has rows upon rows of shelves with the same odd clothes worn by the strangers outside. The walls are bare and grey, the sheer space and the too-bright light from the neon lanterns making Luo Binghe miss the coziness of the den.
An old man looks up from the counter, a single round lens glinting over his right eye. “You seriously had him walk through town like that?" he demands. "Where’s your common sense?”
“Like I’d know what size to get,” Shen Qingqiu counters. “I don’t even know what he’d like.”
“I’ll wear anything you give me, gege,” Luo Binghe says brightly.
The old man’s face contorts. “Gege!?”
“Just get him dressed, Meng Mo,” Shen Qingqiu ekes out through clenched teeth.
"I don't know who's worse, you or that bloody wolf." Clicking his tongue, Meng Mo crooks a gnarly finger at Luo Binghe. “Let’s get this over with so your precious gege will get the hell out of my store.”
When Shen Qingqiu gives an approving nod, Luo Binghe follows Meng Mo to the back of the store where the old man pushes and prods him to stand before a full-length mirror.
“Hold still.” Pulling out a tape measure, Meng Mo stretches it around Luo Binghe’s shoulders and chest with quick movements. “Explain to me,” he moves down to Luo Binghe’s hips, “How a child of humans got involved with a damn fox spirit?”
“He gave me a home,” Luo Binghe says, simply.
Meng Mo’s hands pause, hovering at Luo Binghe’s thighs, before resuming their work. “And how do you know he hasn’t brainwashed you with his wily words?”
Luo Binghe smiles at his reflection in the mirror. “Gege isn’t good with words.”
Meng Mo snorts. “Lost cause, I see."
Irritation churns in Luo Binghe’s chest but he chooses to ignore it. "Who's the wolf? Gege hasn't mentioned any other spirit."
"Not my story to tell," Meng Mo says idly.
Luo Binghe tries a different route. “Is Meng-xiansheng a spirit too?”
"Just call me ‘Meng Mo.’ And yes, yes I am.” Meng Mo looks up, his mouth tugged in a smirk. “You know, I’m older than that fox bastard, and I’ve lived with humans for far longer. You’d do better with me than him.”
Luo Binghe sniffs, “No thank you.”
“You haven’t even seen what I can do,” Meng Mo says, straightening as he rolls up the tape measure. “Clothes are one thing, but take a look at my best pieces on that table.”
Grudgingly, Luo Binghe turns to the table beside the mirror. It’s a display of toy animals—rabbits and mice, small dogs and cats—their surfaces glinting under the lights.
“Metalwork.” Meng Mo’s thin chest puffs out with pride. “Ever since humans discovered metal, they’ve shaped it into all sorts of crazy things, but only I have mastered the art of creating these metal creatures. Also,” he adds, voice dropping to a whisper, “They move.”
Luo Binghe jolts back when a dog leaps off the table, eyes flashing red. Steam shoots out the back of its paws, propelling it forward as it runs around him in circles, its jaw unhinging to let out sharp barks.
Meng Mo throws back his head and laughs. “Surprised you, didn’t it?”
He’s not wrong, much to Luo Binghe’s chagrin. In fact, it surprised him just as much as the loud, shiny things on the hard path outside—cars, Shen Qingqiu called them.
“What use do they have?” Luo Binghe asks.
“For starters,” Meng Mo says, "They make great gifts.”
Gifts.
As Luo Binghe watches the metal dog run and run without any hint of slowing down, the gears in his mind spin with ideas. Now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t really thanked Shen Qingqiu for all his love and care. In words, always, but words aren’t tangible. And Shen Qingqiu did say that there’s a lot to learn from humans. What better way to learn than to immerse himself in their advancements through another spirit?
“Teach me,” Luo Binghe says.
Holding up an article of clothing, Meng Mo turns back, eyes narrowed behind the lens. “What was that?”
“Teach me,” Luo Binghe says again. “Metalwork, and what humans can do.”
Meng Mo's wrinkled face breaks into a grin. “I don’t normally take on apprentices, but it’s worth it just to see the look on that fox’s face!”
“Hey,” Shen Qingqiu yells from the front of the store. “What’s taking so long?”
Meng Mo shoves clothes into Luo Binghe’s arms. “Put those on while I go tell him the news,” he says, far too gleefully.
It’s a struggle figuring out how the clothes work, but Luo Binghe manages to slip them on, just in time for Shen Qingqiu to storm through the door with a thunderous expression.
“Meng Mo tells me—”
He stops mid-sentence, mouth open, as a dusting of pink spreads across his cheeks and down his neck, beneath his high collar.
Worried, Luo Binghe glances at his reflection. He’d put on the black pants, then the short black coat over the white piece with all the buttons. Has he worn them all wrong?
“You put him in a suit,” Shen Qingqiu says, sounding strangled.
Meng Mo pops up behind him, still grinning. “You’re welcome,” he says.
After rounds of negotiations ("How long would it take to impart everything you know? Two weeks? Or is that a generous estimation considering your tiny brain?" "You're not making this easy, fox."), it’s decided that Meng Mo will take Luo Binghe for the next year, with the end date of his training firmly set by Shen Qingqiu himself.
“I’m going back to the den,” the fox says, then. “No reason for me to stay.”
Luo Binghe wraps his fingers around Shen Qingqiu’s wrist, grip tight. “But I can visit?” he murmurs.
Shen Qingqiu looks at him as if seeing him for the first time, before he offers a smile that’s softer, sweeter, than any that Luo Binghe has ever seen.
“Anytime,” he says, softly.
Luo Binghe’s breath catches, and they stay like that for a while, Luo Binghe’s hand on Shen Qingqiu’s wrist, a crackle in the air between them.
“I’m right here, you know,” Meng Mo says.
Spell broken, Shen Qingqiu shoves Luo Binghe away. “Better take good care of him, you old racoon.”
“He’ll be a different man when you see him again, fox,” Meng Mo says.
Eyes rolling, Shen Qingqiu sweeps away, leaving Luo Binghe with his heart thudding wildly in his chest.
Like Shen Qingqiu, Meng Mo is a strict teacher, and Luo Binghe learns quickly under his wing. He learns about cars and cement roads, suits and hats, glasses and monocles, high-rise buildings and clocks that tick. He learns that the evolution, these otherworldly advancements, were brought by humans from across the ocean, the ones with colored hair and pale skin.
Judging by their attitude with Meng Mo in the store, they think they’re above all others. No different from the people who beat Luo Binghe as a child.
“It’s all about power with humans,” Luo Binghe mutters, after yet another man with blue eyes and sand-colored hair flings a pile of clothes at Meng Mo, knocking his monocle askew. “Power over the weak and vulnerable.”
Meng Mo rips the clothes off his head and flings them to the ground. “You talk as if you’re not one of them," he says, lifting a hand to adjust his monocle.
“Shen-ge raised me.” Luo Binghe raises his chin the way Shen Qingqiu does it. “Not humans.”
“So what, you’re a fox spirit?” Meng Mo snorts. He trods across the clothes with light steps, driving one heel into a white shirt and leaving prints on it. “You’ll never be a fox, child of humans, no matter how much you try.”
"I'm not a child anymore."
"I'm over a thousand years old, child. You're practically a baby to me."
"Then why is a thousand-year-old spirit letting a mere human walk all over him?"
Crouched down to pick up the clothes—clothes that Luo Binghe knows he will clean and fix and return with a smile—Meng Mo's fingers curl into the fabric. "Because we have to evolve too," he growls, "Unlike your stubborn gege."
With Luo Binghe’s petulant silence, they move onto the mechanics of Meng Mo’s metal animals.
It's Luo Binghe’s favorite part of Meng Mo's teachings.
He likes it so much that he shows off his notes to Shen Qingqiu whenever he visits, explaining the use of screws and wheels and pistons, the way they all connect together to form moving, workable parts. Even in his fox form, Shen Qingqiu still manages to pull off a look filled with disdain.
Ah, the lengths humans go to when they fail to harness their qi, he says, teeth bared.
“If I learn to harness my qi, can I turn into a fox?” Luo Binghe says, eager.
Shen Qingqiu’s ears flatten to his head in mild exasperation. It only works the other way, Binghe.
“Oh,” Luo Binghe says, pouting.
Do you not enjoy being with your own kind? You’re learning a great deal about these contraptions.
Luo Binghe shakes his head vigorously. “They’re rude, they’re cruel, and even Meng Mo stays not for them but for their inventions. Besides,” he sinks his fingers into the white fur, mouth soft, “I’d rather be with gege.”
Shen Qingqiu stiffens, all nine of his tails shooting upward. Then he whips back into their den with a sharp, hmph!
As he always has, Luo Binghe returns to the city with his heart full and his bag filled with his favorite fruits and berries.
Soon.
Soon, he will have Shen Qingqiu’s gift ready.
“Not bad,” Meng Mo says, fingers stroking his chin. “The parts are well connected, the movements are smooth…”
Luo Binghe brightens. “So it’s ready?”
“Yes, it’s—hey!”
Grabbing the metal gift, Luo Binghe sprints out of Meng Mo’s store and beelines for the forest, for his home.
For Shen Qingqiu.
It has been a year, one whole year.
Though Luo Binghe kept up his visits with Shen Qingqiu, it’s not the same, returning to sleep in a room, alone, on a cold, empty mattress. He may not fit in the den anymore, but now he fits in with his kind—now he knows how to live amongst them—and Shen Qingqiu can surely live with him in his human form. Live in his original form, better yet, in the privacy of their own home.
I want to see how you fare with them, Shen Qingqiu said.
Was that what he had intended all along? Not Meng Mo’s interference, maybe, but for them to live together again, just the two of them?
The thought of it thrills Luo Binghe to no end.
He’s crossing the street when he spots a familiar glimpse of green and the face of the ethereal beauty he was so enamored by one year ago. Is enamored, still. Especially knowing that said beauty had come to the city just to pick him up on the appointed date.
“Shen-ge!”
Shen Qingqiu turns.
And then everything happens in slow motion.
The car headed his way, careening dangerously, left and right.
The other cars swerving to avoid it, tires screeching across asphalt.
The way Shen Qingqiu spots it first, stepping forward, his eyes wide and his mouth open, as if about to shout something.
As if it wasn’t too late.
Watch out for those things.
Oh, Luo Binghe thinks. Gege is going to scold me for this.
The impact is sudden. Luo Binghe feels his gift slip out of his arms, crashing to the road, and he reaches for it, stretches, even as his body crumbles, as the sounds around him—the pain of his bones shattering—all come rushing through him at once, like the burst of a balloon.
Above it all, he hears Shen Qingqiu’s screams.
They fade in and out at first, the voices. Then slowly, gradually, they grow louder, clearer.
“Let go!”
“The doctor said—”
“That human knows fuck all! If you’d just let me—”
“Calm down, fox!!”
Ah, Shen Qingqiu and Meng Mo...
“Calm down? Calm down!? Binghe is… he’s…”
It’s Shen Qingqiu’s silvery voice, but where is the confidence, the surety of knowing he's always right?
Luo Binghe tries to move but can’t. Tries to tell Shen Qingqiu that he’s fine, he’s okay, so please don’t sound so small, so broken, like he’s the one who’d been hit by a car.
Ah, right.
He’d been hit by a car.
Damn humans.
“It’s my fault,” Shen Qingqiu whispers.
Something clenches in Luo Binghe’s chest.
“How do you figure?" Meng Mo retorts. "Did you drive that car? Did you manipulate the human into crashing that car? If not, then—”
“I shouldn’t have brought him back to humans," Shen Qingqiu says, his voice cracking at the edges. "But I thought it best that he forgets this old spirit, that he grows old with his own kind. How can he possibly want to stay with me, out in the forest, when he sees what his kind can do?”
No, Luo Binghe thinks, trembling. No, I want to be with gege, he wants to yell to Shen Qingqiu, to the whole world. I've always wanted to be with gege!
But his eyelids are like lead weights and his throat is glued shut. Gravity is a crushing force on his chest, and no matter how hard he wills it, he can’t bring himself to get up and tell Shen Qingqiu of all the times he’s dreamed of spending forever with him.
“So you brought him here as a test?” Meng Mo murmurs. “To see what he chooses?”
“Mn,” Shen Qingqiu says.
A long exhale from Meng Mo. “I can’t tell if that’s noble, selfish, or just plain stupid.”
"Says the old raccoon who took him out of spite," Shen Qingqiu mutters.
"Hey, we're talking about you, not me," Meng Mo scoffs. "More importantly, is that test even necessary? Surely you can see the way he looks at you, the way his whole damn being lights up when you’re around. Even Niulang himself would call him an idiot for all his yearning."
"...are you calling me Zhinü?"
"Again, not the point here."
Shen Qingqiu heaves a sigh, breath shaking. "This wasn't supposed to happen."
"What do you mean?" Meng Mo asks, softer than usual.
"I meant to care for him for maybe three, four years, tops. Take him back to humans as soon as I’ve become tired of him. Instead, I grew used to him. To all the gege, the big eyes, the little hugs and kisses. Ever since I lost..." Shen Qingqiu trails off, and chuckles. "Well. The den feels empty without Binghe."
Luo Binghe's chest goes hot, and inside, he flails and thrashes, desperate to reach out. Throw his arms around Shen Qingqiu and never let go.
Meng Mo makes a noise through his nose. "Wow. Now I actually feel sorry for you."
"Shut up," Shen Qingqiu says, half-heartedly.
There's a pause, with Luo Binghe’s agitation rising. What is going on? What is Shen Qingqiu doing? Is he crying? Is Meng Mo comforting him? Meng Mo better be comforting him!
It's Shen Qingqiu who breaks the silence.
"This metal thing," he says. "Binghe made it himself?"
"That's all him," Meng Mo says. "Right down to the design of it."
"Ah. It looks like…"
"It is you," Meng Mo huffs. "A nine-tailed fox? Do you know how much easier it would have been to make a fox with one tail?"
Silence again. And then, barely audible at first, Luo Binghe hears it—the sounds of restrained weeping, of breaths desperately sucked in between quiet sobs. In the darkness behind his eyelids, he sees Shen Qingqiu bent over double on a metal chair, eyes wrenched shut and tears pouring down his cheeks.
Luo Binghe wants to scream. There was nothing he could do to retaliate against the people in his past; there’s nothing he can do for Shen Qingqiu now. And it's like a thousand ants crawling over his skin, this feeling of helplessness, of knowing something has gone horribly wrong with no option other than to brace for pain.
Anything, Luo Binghe thinks, sending his plea to gods, spirits, demons, anyone willing to listen. I’ll do anything, just please let me be with gege again, let me hold him and love him and tell him how much I can’t live without him…
"Come now, fox," Meng Mo says, voice hushed. "It's not like he's dead—"
Shen Qingqiu lets out a keening whine that curdles Luo Binghe’s blood.
Please let gege smile again…!!
Without warning, light floods into the darkness, white and blinding. The last thing Luo Binghe sees as he slips into it, consciousness fading, is a giant wolf covered in silver fur, watching him from a hilltop.
When Luo Binghe opens his eyes, he sees Shen Qingqiu standing by the window in human form, staring out into the distance. A perfect painting, if not for his flushed cheeks and trembling shoulders, his swollen eyes, rubbed red and raw.
Luo Binghe's heart squeezes so hard he can't breathe. All night, his beautiful fox must have cried all night. For him.
Opening his mouth, he calls for Shen Qingqiu.
Gege!
Shen Qingqiu startles and turns to meet Luo Binghe’s eyes.
"Binghe…?"
Luo Binghe nods. See, gege, I'm fine! Totally fine!
For a beat, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t move, his expression unreadable. Then, with slow, careful steps, he closes the gap between them and reaches for Luo Binghe.
Oh, why does Shen Qingqiu’s hands feel so big on his body? And why does Shen Qingqiu lift him into his arms as if he’s a baby?
Gege, Luo Binghe starts, confused, as Shen Qingqiu swings around to face the other side of the room. How are you—
He freezes, the words caught in his throat.
On the bed propped against a white wall, looking for all the world as though he's asleep, is him. Luo Binghe, human, his body wrecked from a car accident.
So what body is he in?
It is only then does Luo Binghe look down to find a pair of shiny legs joined by screws and plates. It is only then does he flex in alarm, metal claws digging into the soft skin of Shen Qingqiu’s arms, sure to leave marks.
"Binghe," Shen Qingqiu breathes. "You're a fox."
Meng Mo paces up and down the narrow alleyway while Luo Binghe pads about, testing his joints, his movements.
It's stiff at first, but he now feels surprisingly light when he leaps off the ground despite his parts, and for the first time, he knows precisely what he's made of. He was the one who chose all the pieces, after all.
“How?” Meng Mo bursts out. “How the hell did you pull this off?” He jabs a finger at Shen Qingqiu. “It’s you, isn't it! Finally sold your soul, didn’t you?”
Leaning against the wall, Shen Qingqiu shakes his head. “I wouldn’t even know who to sell my soul to.”
Luo Binghe bounces up to Shen Qingqiu and nuzzles his cheek against Shen Qingqiu’s calf. Even from this height, this vantage point, Shen Qingqiu is beautiful, the line of his jaw hard and sharp. And when he looks down, the smile on his face soft and pleased, it lights up every fragment of Luo Binghe’s soul.
There, right there. He’d set the world aflame for a glimpse of this smile everyday, always.
Shen Qingqiu nudges Luo Binghe’s flank with his foot. “You're enjoying this, hm?”
Luo Binghe lets out a small yip. Yes, gege!
“I don’t like this ridiculous metal nonsense, but you’ve done a good job with it.”
Praise is rare with Shen Qingqiu, much less praise for what is ultimately a human creation.
Gege… Luo Binghe’s tails curl, winding up like his nerves. I… I really...
“What do we do with his body?” Meng Mo says, ignoring Luo Binghe’s glare for the interruption. “His human body? They’ll toss it into a box and bury him if we leave it for too long."
“Didn’t that idiot doctor say he may never wake again?” Shen Qingqiu hums. “They were probably going to do it anyway.”
Meng Mo stares at him, incredulous. “Are you saying we let him stay in that thing?”
“A gift is a gift." Shen Qingqiu pushes himself off the wall. "We should honor it by making full use of it."
“By having him live for eternity as a metal creature?”
“As a fox,” Shen Qingqiu corrects.
Meng Mo scowls. “Of all the selfish—”
It’s fine, Meng Mo, Luo Binghe cuts in. Like this, finally, I can live in the den with Shen-ge again. Like this, I won’t grow old and leave Shen-ge all alone. Isn’t that right, gege?
Shen Qingqiu glances at Luo Binghe, eyes bright, before a white light envelops his figure, morphing and shaping into his original form—a fox now twice the size of Luo Binghe, tails curling around the slender body. The fox's snout lifts, and laughter fills Luo Binghe’s head, the same musical laugh that kept the embers within him alight all those years ago.
With that new body, you’ll have to relearn everything. Are you ready, Binghe?
Luo Binghe's ears flick forward, tongue lolling out of his open jaw with unadulterated joy.
Yes, gege!
They bound off together, weaving and twining around each other as they leave Meng Mo and humans and steam-powered machines behind. Luo Binghe can ask about the silver wolf later. For now, he's content to race with Shen Qingqiu back to their forest, the warmth of their den.
To home.
Shen Yuan.
What's that, gege?
My true name. It's Shen Yuan.