Silent Mountain Tales - Volume 1 Chapter 5

Описание: Chapter 5 — The Lantern That Listens
Li Shen walked deeper into the forest, both lanterns glowing softly in his hands. The trees no longer towered over him like judges. Their branches leaned inward, quiet and attentive, as if the forest itself had shifted from testing him to witnessing him. The air felt different too — lighter, almost expectant.
The path beneath his feet was uneven and mossy, but it no longer tried to trip him. Each step felt guided, as though the forest had accepted his presence. The lanterns cast overlapping circles of warm light that swayed gently with his movements, pushing back the darkness in soft pulses.
After several minutes of walking, the trees thinned, revealing a narrow stream that shimmered with moonlight. The water flowed slowly, its surface smooth except for the occasional ripple that caught the silver glow of the moon. The second lantern — the one that had awakened in his hands — pulsed once, faint but deliberate.
Li Shen knelt and set it beside the water.
The lantern didn’t flicker.
It listened.
He leaned closer to the stream, expecting sound, but what rose instead was memory — not images, not voices, but sensations.
A warmth in his chest: Mei Lian’s laughter, bright and unguarded.
A cold weight in his stomach: Mistress Yun’s silence, heavy the night he disappointed her.
A tightness in his throat: his own breath, caught between apology and pride.
The stream reflected none of these things.
But he felt them as clearly as if they were happening now.
The lantern absorbed it all without judgment, its glow steady and warm. The forest around him remained still, as though giving him space to feel what he had long avoided.
Li Shen exhaled slowly.
He hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been holding himself.
Across the stream, something shifted.
Roots parted. Moss peeled back.
A third pedestal emerged from the shadows, rising as though the earth itself had been waiting for this moment. Unlike the others, it held no lantern. Only a carved symbol: a phoenix with its wings folded inward, head bowed, feathers pressed close to its body.
A phoenix that was not yet ready to rise.
Li Shen stood and crossed the stream, the water cool around his ankles. He approached the pedestal and brushed his fingers over the carving. The stone was cold, but beneath it he sensed a quiet pulse — not light, not heat, but potential.
This trial would not be about illumination.
It would be about stillness.
He sat beside the pedestal, both lanterns resting near him. Their warm glow softened the edges of the forest, turning shadows into gentle shapes. The stream behind him murmured faintly, but even that sound seemed to fade as he closed his eyes.
The forest did not whisper.
The wind did not stir.
Even the insects held their breath.
Li Shen placed his hands on his knees and allowed the silence to settle around him. At first, it felt heavy — a weight pressing against his chest. But slowly, the weight shifted. It became grounding, steadying, like a hand placed gently on his shoulder.
The lanterns listened.
The forest listened.
And for the first time in years,
Li Shen listened too.
He listened to the ache he had ignored.
He listened to the pride he had carried.
He listened to the quiet truth beneath both.
Minutes passed.
Or perhaps hours.
Time softened in the silence.
When he finally opened his eyes, the phoenix carving seemed different — not glowing, not moving, but somehow more alive. As if it had heard him. As if it had accepted his silence as an answer.
Li Shen bowed his head.
The trial of silence was not about conquering anything.
It was about returning to himself.
And he had.