He looked around and spotted a mound of damp stones nearby. As he stepped closer, something caught his eye—a silhouette lying in the shallows. A boy. Pale as jade, eyes closed.

Was he drowning?

His heart clenched.

He scrambled forward, slipping on the slick stones, and grasped the boy’s arms. I can’t let him die. With trembling fingers and every ounce of strength in his slight frame, he hauled the boy from the water, inch by inch, until they collapsed together on the riverbank.

The boy coughed. Stirred. Air returned to his lungs.

When he finally opened his eyes, they were deep blue—like the sea on a stormless day. They locked eyes, silence stretching like the current between them.

“Thank you… for saving me,” the pale boy whispered.

“It’s nothing. I was just looking for mushrooms,” the younger one replied.

“Mushrooms? Why?”

“To make medicine.”

“I’ll help. What do they look like?”

“The cap is soft and spongey,” he said, “a pale, milky hue that glimmers when wet. The stem’s nearly translucent. Fragile.”

They stood, brushing river dust from their knees, and began their search. Each time they found one, their laughter rang through the trees—light and clear, like windchimes in a breeze.

“Here’s the Foamcap…” the younger boy said, pride warming his voice. He’d only ever seen it in books.

By midday, they sat by the water, feet submerged in the cool shallows, sharing steamed buns.
“This is harder than it looks…” he muttered, rubbing sore arms.

The other boy glanced at him. Silently, he handed over a flask.

He accepted it with both hands, a shy smile forming on his lips. “Thank you.”

A small gesture—but in the quiet between two strangers, it meant everything.

They spent the day together, speaking of everything and nothing, their laughter tangled in rustling leaves. And as the sun melted gold behind the hills, they knew their time was ending.

A hug—brief, tight.

“Farewell,” one whispered.

“Don’t say that,” the other answered. “We’ll meet again. I’ll become a doctor too. I promise.”

“I believe you.”

The pale boy turned to leave. Then paused.

He looked back, gaze sweeping over the other, as if to carve every line of his face into memory.

Wordlessly, he reached for the cord around his neck—a single jade bead dangling at the end, cool as river water. He held it out, gently, like it carried every word he couldn't speak.

“…Keep it.”

And so, their meeting ended—

without names.