O Campeão Vestido de Brocado

Opening his eyes, he was met with a haze. As his pupils refocused, he found that the world before him was not the familiar sterile white, but a gentle blue-green. He seemed to be cradled in someone’s arms, enveloped by a warmth so profound that it inspired a sense of peace. Then a droplet fell onto his face, accompanied by the faint sound of sobbing.

Was he truly leaning against a woman’s chest?

Zhu Hao forced his eyes wide open and finally saw clearly. She was a beautiful woman: an oval face, delicate brows, a jade-like nose, and gentle lips. She wore not the usual white coat, but a long dress of blue-green cloth, strange and unfamiliar. After years of illness spent bedridden, the only women he’d seen were the nurses, but Zhu Hao, ever optimistic and lively, naturally felt compelled to greet this nurse sister with the old-fashioned garb, perhaps with a “Miss, are you new here? Your clothes are so unique.” But when he tried to speak, only one word escaped his lips: “Mother…”

What was happening? His mouth acted beyond the reach of his mind.

Suddenly his head was pierced by a stabbing pain as images flooded in—a forced infusion of memories, an unbearable sensation as if his personality was being torn apart.

These fragments were not his own; the agony brought clarity. So, he realized, he was the intruder here.

“My little Hao, you’re all right now? You frightened your mother to death!” The woman clutched him tighter, suffocating him, yet he could not push her away.

He looked at himself—thin arms and legs.

Gone was the body he’d