The orphanage was an old building of the city, one which struggled to stand against the test of time—but one Xu Liang called home. It was old enough it outlived the current generations, being part of the first buildings of the city—the vines sticking close to the wooden walls, the crumbling pillars on the front, on each side of a path leading to a rather difficult-to-open door, gave it a very dilapidated appearance.

But the natural decay was held back by the more recent work being done. The rundown hall-like structure had seen better days, but it had seen worse too. Pieces of the wall missing were rebuilt around, the newer wood’s color shining next to the moldy one, creating a surprising contrast. The weed growing out of the broken tile path outside was removed a while ago, and the gaps were being filled slowly.

It was almost a decent building.

It was in this building that the young boy, tired from his long day, was sprawled over the sofa—the only sofa of the orphanage. One which was often fought over, but since everyone else was eating, Xu Liang could afford to have it all for himself. In the next room—the biggest of the building—he could hear the joyous banter of his family… talking, laughing, crying…

Crying?

Xu Liang frowned as he struggled a bit to recover from his awkward position. When he managed to sit properly, his head peeked above the wooden upper part of the sofa, as his eyes wandered around for a bit. The fireplace, crackling with heat, the table in front of him—one he got for cheap at the marketplace—and the bookshelves, filled with random stuff collected over the years. No books though, nobody else other than himself liked to read.

Maybe one day they’ll be filled with them, but for now, it was enough. They were part of the original building and were now part of their lives.

He traced the stains on the wooden floor, darkening the material, and even having a puffed-up appearance, a small smile gracing his features, fond memories of the past resurging.

Yao Yao running around, eight, with a hot cup of tea, one she went to search for because it was Hong’s birthday. Her small feet rushed towards the main room before disaster struck. She cried for nearly a full day after that—having wasted her precious tea, one she bought with her saved-up money.

The tea in question was a rather sweet type and thus was expensive. Far from an everyday occurrence, it was even surprising that the little girl managed to save up that much for it.

The door of the room opened, the noises of the merry family eating getting louder for a moment before it went back to its muted state as the wooden frame of the door shut close.

“Is everything alright, Disi?” Xu Liang asked, bringing his head to his crossed arms, supported by the upper frame of the sofa.

The target of his gaze was a middle-aged woman, thin eyes filled with warmth, surrounded by soft wrinkles. As she smiled at the young boy, the marks of age on her face intensifying, she rubbed her left palm on her thigh, washing grease away as the fabric of her pants glimmered slightly with the new substance being introduced to it. She approached Xu Liang, her right palm busy holding a cup of tea, steam rising from the surface of the black-colored beverage.

Xu Liang raised an eyebrow.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I’m still not used to this,” she said, laughing a bit when witnessing the boy’s expression, her left hand freezing in the air. She picked up a bit of tissue left on the table in front of the sofa, and after cleaning her hand, she put the cup of tea under it.

“Thank you,” Xu Liang said with a small nod. When he brought the cup to his lips, he recognized the fragrance in an instant. It was the same one from his memories. The one Yao Yao saved up money for. His lips curled into a smirk, as he contemplated how much things changed.

He took a sip, before releasing a satisfied breath of hot air, putting the cup back on the table. “So?” He glanced at the woman standing still next to him.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” She asked, ignoring Xu Liang’s question, a bit of exasperation deep within her tone. One that was accompanied by an obvious overflowing fondness.

“I’ve eaten already at school. I’m full.” Was his answer. One which he said each time she asked the question. A question she asked each time he came back from school and refused to eat anything.

The woman sighed and shook her head slightly, a gentle smile on her face. “You know, they’re not stupid. They know why you’re doing this.”

Xu Liang shrugged his shoulders. “It’s just a habit. It’s not because now we have a bit of money that those will go away.”

“Sure, sure…” Her tone made it clear she didn’t believe one bit of what he said. No, even worse, she knew exactly why he was acting like he was. “But just you know, don’t be surprised when you get a big gift for your birthday.”

The young boy lost his smile and frowned. “W-What? No, I don’t need anything for my birthday. It’s better for them to save up the money and use it for something more reasonable.”

“Hmmm?” She hummed in a mocking tone. Her sly smile widened a bit at Xu Liang’s words. “If so then why do you give everyone gifts on their birthdays? Can’t they reciprocate your actions now?”

“Ah… It’s not the same,” justified Xu Liang, his cheeks gaining a pink tint. “I-It’s just that they’re young and—”

“Xiaofu’s older than you, yet you still gift him something every time.”

“That’s because he left the orphanage now, and I’m celebrating it.” Xu Liang coughed in his closed fist.

“Each year?” Her smile only widened.

“E-Each year.”

She sighed once more and sat next to Xu Liang on the sofa. “Thank you, Liang.” She brought her hand on the top of his head and started to caress it.

“W-Why?”

He made no move to stop it, however, even if his cheeks reddened even more.

“You know,” she started to say, craning her head back to look above, her eyes seeing a distant past. “I didn’t expect you to succeed that much in alchemy. Enough for you to support all of your brothers and sisters… That old book I gave you was something I found by inadvertence. A play of the Fates, a gift of the Heavens—but one which was passed down to you.” She smiled at him once her head went back down.

“...”

“It’s funny sometimes how life goes… you can pour your heart and soul into something, only to see it all crumble around you,” she said, her tone turning wistful. “And then you can have something completely random happen to you, only for it to be the Heavens’ greatest gift.” She turned to him at the end of the sentence.

“...” Xu Liang refused to meet her gaze, finding the cup of tea much more interesting all of the sudden. His red cheeks made the woman chuckle, however.

“I’m proud of you, Liang,” she said, her voice filled with the affection of a mother for her children. The next second, that same voice turned slightly reproachful, though mostly playful. “I would be prouder of you if you called me Mom, however.”

“N-No! No way,” Xu Liang refused, shaking his head left to right.

“Why?” The woman asked, a bright smile on her face. “You used to do so with so much affection! I remember when you would run from—”

“Stop, I don’t want to hear it,” he said, his face burning with shame.

She laughed. A laugh so familiar to Xu Liang a smile threatened to break on his face. A glint of happiness danced in his eyes.

“But why are you telling me this all of the sudden?” he asked.

Disi’s lips froze for a second before her smile got bigger. Xu Liang, having spent much of his life with her, recognized it for what it was. A fake smile.

His own lowered.

He didn’t say anything, though suspicion arose from within.

“What, can’t I just tell you how I feel about you?”

“...I suppose.”

Though their discussion continued, going on frequent tangents as the room was soon filled with his brothers and sisters—at least those who finished eating—he couldn’t remove the nagging feeling ringing in the back of his mind, no matter what.

Disi coughed. She used both of her hands to block the sound of air pushing forcefully through her. It was a wet cough, one which burned both her throat and her lungs. Speaking of her lungs, they wriggled with piercing pain. A pain everyone in this city recognized.

It’s been a week, she thought, trying to distract herself from the pain.

Her body was overcome by a sudden bout of tiredness. Her knees shook for a second, just enough for her to falter. Above, the moon, shining brightly alongside the stars. She stood there, just outside of the orphanage, her back against the wooden wall, as the frigid air of the night curled against her thick clothing.

Little Liang managed to enter the most prestigious school in the city, he earns enough money for everyone here to live comfortably through alchemy...

White smoke escaped her mouth, as her lips were becoming coarse from the raw cold. Her eyes were red, though for a completely different reason.

Because of a disease.

In her hands, blood mixed with saliva, and the… other substance—forming a red lump, crimson to be exact.

Her hands tightened into fists, frustration ringing loud in her mind.

How can I ever pay back this debt? I’m the one supposed to take care of them...

She cursed in her chest. Her painful chest, ready to expel the next lump.

How… can I pay back this debt… before I’m gone...

Not knowing just behind the slightly opened door, a lanky black-haired boy stood silently, eyes wide open with terror and still, feeling a piercing cold not even the night could ever make him feel.

No...

The room, his room. The one he was used to. The one he slept in, the one he did his experiments in… felt unwelcoming. It was cold, extremely so.

No…

His pace was agonizingly slow, carrying disbelief and the pain of understanding. His foot came to a stop before the platform which made up his bed. The clay forming the heating block was cold as he forgot to open the pipes connecting the firewood from the general room to his.

J-Just as things were going right for the first time...

Folded bed covers and firm pillows were sitting on it, and to the right, an old wooden table, the edges long gone as the top was showing ashy marks and dark stains—from the materials he used in his alchemy. On it, a large cauldron, made of cheap metal.

His hand shot under the pillows, searching for something. He retrieved from it an ancient book, coarse leather making up the cover of it—slightly wrinkled and yellowish paper making up the book itself. It was so old it smelled of dust, despite being cleaned thoroughly each night.

His shaking hands brought it close to him, as he sat upon his bed. His eyes had lost their light, and he bit his lips so hard he drew blood. The pain didn’t even register in his brain, instead, he opened the book, looking at the first page. He looked at it, his eyes following the words and numbers written on it.

Then he went to the next page.

And then to the next. Again and again. He sped up, his movement bolstered by palpable desperation. Each time looking for something he already knew wasn’t there.

There’s no way…

No cure for the Crimson Plague could be found in the book. No matter how hard he gazed upon the instructions, the descriptions of plants and ingredients even his mind couldn’t fathom—having never left this city—he would never be able to find it.

And he knew it.

Still, his hands found itself stuck on the edge of the page, ready to turn it again.

Why? Why… her? W-Why me?

The darkness gathering in each corner of his room was looming over him. He didn’t dare to light up his room, the window letting the moonlight seep through was enough.

He reached the end of the book, having spent an unknown amount of time with his eyes riveted on the book. Watching every single detail.

Only to come to a conclusion he had already foreseen.

If only I had more time...

His hands curled up, frustration rising, as the paper either scrunched up or was torn, ruining the ancient knowledge each page contained. His body trembled, straining against the realization.

If only I had more time!

Fourteen years… it had been fourteen years.

The boy who had lost everything to the Crimson Plague was about to lose someone again.

To the same disease. One which is supposed to be rare.

A thin trail of blood was running down his chin. His upper teeth were planted in his lower lip, stained red.

The boy who had picked up alchemy to find a way to liberate the people from the Crimson Plague was once more faced with his enemy.

And time, like always, had never ticked in his favor.