In those old days, there were Kim Bangjeon and Park Jihoon, a pair of close friends since childhood.

Growing up, when foreign invaders came to trample the country, one was Marshal Kim, the other was General Park, together they raised an army, rushing on the battlefield to kill the enemy.

In one battle, as Kim-Park's army lost, they were forced to abandon an important stronghold and retreat to an abandoned temple. All the way back and forth around were blocked by the enemy, being trapped in such dilemma, Marshal Kim stayed up all night but still could not figure out a proper move.

That night, General Park showed no interest in the situation, he curled up next to Marshal Kim and fell into a peaceful sleep. But in fact, he just pretended to close his eyes and be thorough with his thoughts, and then when Marshal Kim leaned back as if to take a short nap, he finally made his decision.

He blew out the oil lamp, then groped to find the iron chest where Marshal Kim's royal robe was kept, he deliberately flipped the lid off and took it out.

The sound caused Kim to sit up, the sword he always carried by his waist was drawn and pointed straight at Park Jihoon.

The latter showed no fear, calmly stated his wish. "Marshal, stealing royal robe is a crime worthy of death, but please don't blame me right now. Please let me put on this robe and lead an army striking into the castle, risking my life against the enemy."

Recognizing that it was the voice of his comrade, his soulmate, Kim Bangjeon immediately retracted his sword and asked in a sad voice, "What are you saying, there's no way I'll let you go into danger!"

"The current situation is extremely exigent, please accept my wish."

"I can't push you to such fatal places, you're the one I cherish the most."

"But if the live of mine in exchange for a retreat way for you Marshal and the soldiers, in exchange for a glorious victory tomorrow, all enemy being swept away from our the country, then it is completely worth it."

In the dark, Park Jihoon's hand reached out and grabbed Marshal Kim's shoulder, he said in a voice that was both earnest and firm. "My dear Commander, I am begging you, please let me go."

Kim Bangjeon had to look away, his eyes were getting used to the dark, and he couldn't face the other person. He gritted his teeth to maintain his sane, painfully waving his sleeve to show his consent.

General Park's army rushed into the castle. Seeing the royal robe, the enemy mistook this reckless man for Marshal Kim, and poured all their strength into a fierce battle.

At the moment General Park sacrificed, Marshal Kim and his soldiers timely withdrew from the temple, returned to mountain area to strengthen their forces, and waited for the right opportunity.

Few years later, Marshal Kim finally defeated the foreign invaders, and he ascended to the throne, becoming the emperor.

The country was peaceful, the people were well off.

But he always suffered from a struggle, an obsession that had followed him since the night he mercilessly waved his hand to let his beloved one go into the place of death.

On the hill located in a far corner of the palace, despite people's accusations that he was insatiable, he mobilized good workers from the whole country and forced them to build a three-room wooden temple, painted in red and gilded with gold, to make a place of worship in memory of that person.

Even if he did, it wouldn't do any good. Even though the smoke of incense sticked around all year round, he still couldn't find that person, not even a fragment of his soul.

The Crown Prince was chosen, and the emperor's health also deteriorated. He handed over all power to the Crown Prince and the Queen, and moved to live in a small room next to the temple.

One night, in the middle of his dream, he saw an old man with white hair and beard, who gave him a piece of purple jade and said,

"Your Majesty is still mourning over a person right, you want to see that person again, don't you?"

"I will take you to many lifetimes, many universes, so that you can find that person."

"Your Majesty will remember everything that happened."

"If either of you two dies, Your Majesty will immediately be released from that lifetime."

"Otherwise, Your Majesty will have to use your will to tell this thing, it will bring you to reincarnate into another world."

"Please remember, Your Majesty only has a maximum of five times."

He took it with a frown, wondering, "Who are you, why are you helping me?"

The old man laughed and replied, "It doesn't matter who I am. His Majesty fought the enemy to help people, that person was fighting by your side. I want the two of you to be together."

"But Your Majesty must hurry. Your Majesty, look down at your left wrist, can you clearly see the figure there? It is not immutable, but changes gradually. This thing is called an hourglass, which is what Westerners use to tell time. Once the upper part becomes blank, your time is up."

"That's when I will come again to find you, take you to find Meng Po, and you will have to let go of everything you now still regret."

"Good luck, Your Majesty!"

Then, the old man left, Kim Bangjeon also woke up startled.

He thought it was all a dream. But on his left wrist there was indeed a strange drawing, and his left hand was holding a piece of purple jade.

He once again fell asleep, his breathing being even. A sleep from which he never woke up.

Emperor Kim the First passed away, with a calm and relieved expression, not suffering from pain.

———

The moment his eyes closed and his hands let go, he could feel that his soul had left his body, flew up into the air, and was sucked into a deep black hole.

He came to the next life.

There, he was a woman wearing a crimson bridal dress and exquisite ornaments, sitting in a wedding palanquin with eight people carrying.

He was Mingdian Princess of Zhongyuan being brought to Xizhou, for a marriage with the king of this place to maintain the peace between the two countries.

Being bold enough to raise open the curtain, he saw the palanquin passing through a green steppe, and he happened to find the figure of that certain someone in a young man about sixteen years old, being relaxed and carefree on horseback, leisurely leading the sheep to graze young grass.

He wanted to call out, but didn't have the courage. He kept turning his head back, regretfully, until the crew almost left the steppe, and the shepherd boy was also gone.

———

His throat could not speak verbally, there were only growls coming out.

In the dim light shining through the metal bars, he looked down at the grass-strewn ground, and saw that he had four legs, with thick yellow-brown fur and stripes.

He was a tiger.

A tiger being kept in a cage.

The door in front of him then opened, and a man in amor with a sword in his hand approached him.

Just by looking at those eyes, he knew who the other was. Before he had time to rejoice, the sword was stabbed straight into his chest.

Another lifetime has passed.

———

Jaden was a homeless guy. After a game of luck, he won a ticket to board the RMS Titanic, which would soon sail towards the United States.

He didn't know if he would be able to do anything there, if he would find a job, or if it would still be days of being nomad. But in the end, his hands still gathered some stuffs, his feet still led him to the port, passing the conductor.

The narrow room in the third class made Jaden feel suffocated, so he went up the deck, pacing back and forth to get some fresh air.

He was attracted to a well-dressed young man, with soft blond hair and dreamy blue eyes gazing far into the sea.

He stared stuporly at the person, an sudden call escaping his lips, "Jihoon..."

He wanted to walk towards that person and enjoy the beauty of this vast blue ocean with him.

Then, an middle-aged woman wearing gaudy clothes boldly approached that person to hug his waist, placed a kiss on his cheek and asked a few words "Hey Jun, Jun, my darling, what are you thinking?"

The man shook his head, his expression stiffening, and Jaden was also quite surprised.

He seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. He turned around, hiding his reddened eyes.

———

Dien was a writer, but his surreal breezy literature was not received by any newsroom, not a single magazine paid attention to the manuscripts he brought over.

He felt sorry for his lover, his Huan. Huan was a primary school teacher, his salary was not much, and then he even had to raise a parasite.

He already run out of all the meager money he saved up from the time when he was still working in the office, and he suddenly regretted giving up his job to follow this distant passion, becoming a burden for Huan.

And then the school closed, Huan lost his job, both had to try hard to live through the hard days of hunger and cold.

That noon, when cold wind blew in through the gap in the door, Dien was curled up on a rickety bamboo cot, he suddenly smelled the aroma of food following the wind rushing into the narrow room.

Huan joyfully entered, placed on the table a bag full of roasted meat beautifully marinated, and a few Western fried cake. Dien hurriedly got up and sat down at his position, he happily asked Huan where did he get the money to buy those things.

The latter only smiled shyly and replied that he earned it himself.

That smile Dien had loved so much.

But then when he saw the smear of pink lipstick on his lover's lips, thinking that he had been in a relationship with a Western madam for money, Dien was so angry that he trembled, he threw down his chopsticks, it took a lot of restraint to not overthrow the table.

Then he flung his hand, slapping the man he thought was depraved sitting across from him.

Huan, Huan that he loved so much, pursed his lips in surprise and pain, his eyes became cloudy, showing red stripes.

Then he burst into tears, he stood up, hurriedly left.

Leaving Dien alone in the room, in the midst of excruciating pain.

No, it was leaving Dien alone in the middle of a suffering and stalemate life.

That person had ran out to the middle span of Long Bien bridge, without hesitation, immersed himself into Nhi Ha river.

———

Sir Dargent was prosperous, having a lot of money, and he had such an ethereal hobby, which was collecting antiques and beautiful paintings.

He seemed to have bought everything he could, from things that were publicly displayed in museums, to things that were only available on the black market.

But it seemed that he was still not satisfied, he often contacted the broker to continue his search.

And that time, the broker led him to the warehouse of a refugee camp, where the work of an unknown artist who had just escaped to homeland was kept.

The broker said, he heard from the people traveling on the same ship, that during the long journey, the artist had always protected the painting, so it must have contained something very special.

Hearing what being told, Dargent said nothing, he only hummed, showing that he was not interested.

He stood outside lighting his pipe, leaving the broker to push the door and step inside. He removed the white covering sheet, taking in the image depicted on the painting, and exclaimed, "Sir, what a beautiful Annamite woman!"

Hearing his cheers, Dargent drew another breath and entered. His eyes wandered to the painting, his heart almost stopped.

That Annamite woman, Dargent can recognize with just a glance, was the lover he misunderstood in his previous life.

He decided to pay the money to buy that painting, hang it in the middle of living room, the position that he considered the most formal in his house.

The regret could not be relieved, he poured himself some red wine mixed with poison. He held the glass up to the figure in the painting, an unspoken toast, before draining the deadly liquid.

———

"Lieutenant Kanemoto, what are you waiting for! Quickly handle this rebellious Chosenjin!" The mustache commander ordered in a loud voice.

In front of him, was an offender bearing a nameplate with the three letters 朴志焄 – Park Jihoon, being tied to a pillar in the middle of this dark cell.

Under the flickering light, clearly seeing the other's face, his heart clenched. Park offender glared at him, his eyes tinged with anger and hatred.

He closed his eyelids, his finger on the trigger quivering.

But he could not hesitate any longer, as the commander snatched the pistol he was holding in his hand, pointed the barrel at that person, and fired three times in a row.

———

In a certain village, there was a girl named Phuong. She was beautiful, well-mannered, and good at work. She was old enough, yet still unmarried. In the village, there was Mr. Huyen who once had a crush on her, before leaving for the South, he went to her house for a proposal, but she just kept quiet.

Her mother scolded her, asking her why she would ignore such a good person. She just replied that he was not the one I'm looking for. Her mother scolded her again, that in the end who was the one she was finding, which one among the village boys who had gone missing. She could only keep her head low, she did not know where the person was, that certain someone who she was missing, she was waiting for.

That day, a company of recruits on their way to the South to fight came to the village and stopped for a few days. People rushed to the front of the village to welcome the army, while Phuong had carried her mattock to the field since early in the morning, so she didn't know anything.

She worked hard until midday before taking a break to return home. As she passed the village well, she saw a familiar figure, crouching down to carry two buckets of water on a shoulder-pole, their back drenched with sweat. In the midday sun, that person was leaving their head bare, so Phuong rushed to bring her conical leaf hat to them.

The man wearing green military uniform and a white hat gave Phuong a bright smile in the late spring sun, making her feel like she could see a lotus flower in full bloom.

The soldier named Chi was a son of Hanoi. His parents, one was an employee of a printing factory, one was an university lecturer. His beloved red-tile house with yellow walls was at the end of the only street that had two rows of trees on one sidewalk. The high school he attended was located by the bank of the windy West Lake. Last year, he had just graduated from the General University, Faculty of Literature.

Phuong listened passionately to the stories he told, feeling reassured that his life in this lifetime was good.

And she secretly hoped that she would be able to be with him, become a part of that life. Would he laugh at her, would he think that she had some greedy fantasies?

Then the day of parting came, Chi's company left the village to continue their trip to the South. He did not tell Phuong, she only knew when her neighbor – aunt Nhan – came over to gossip.

When she heard the news, it felt like lightning hit her ears, and her legs suddenly collapsed, causing her to almost fall in the middle of the yard. She panicked and entered the room, grabbed an item and hurriedly ran away.

At the front of the village, she stood crouched by the banyan tree, breathing heavily, her eyes stinging as she watched the soldiers marching on the embankment, she choked up her voice and called out, "Chi, don't forget the way to my hometown!"

Hearing her voice, Chi was startled, he ran to the commander to ask for permission, then ran to hug her.

Phuong shyly separated herself, handing him the handkerchief she had stayed up all night to embroider, and the three-leaf clip she usually wore in her hair.

Mr. Chi then grabbed her wrists, firmly uttering a promise, "Phuong, please wait for me, I'll come back when the war is over!"

However, unfortunately, Phuong could not wait for him anymore.

He forever stayed at the bottom of the river, after a fiery night of the battle aiming at the old citadel.

———

In this universe, Kim Bangjeon lived a seemingly perfect life. He had a stable job, a beautiful wife and a well-behaved child. But in his heart there was always an emptiness that could not be filled.

He still wondered if that person would appear in this life. He wondered, were they a fisherman in Jeolla-do, or a soldier from the North, or a volunteer serving in faraway Africa? Where were they, were they being happy?

The questions stuck with him, until the last moments of his life, when he was hospitalized, in the emergency room.

His chest tightened, the pain continued to come as if it wanted to engulf him. Perhaps, the time had come. Perhaps, it would all end there.

In his ears, there was a rush of urgent calls.

"Dad! I'm Jeongwoo!"

"Can you hear what I am saying?"

"Sooyeon has given birth, you are now officially grandpa, do you hear me?"

"Dad, what do you want to name your grandson?"

He couldn't speak, only gurgling sounds came from his throat. He tried to gather the leftover little strength and said softly, the name of a person he always missed, he could never forget, he would still search for no matter how many lifetimes he had to experience.

"Ji... Jihoon..."

At this point, his difficult breathing completely stopped, the heart rate display screen showed only a long straight line.

———

In the next life, his name is Fong Din, nicknamed the Crown Prince, who holds an important role in one of the largest clans in Hongkong.

His job as a drug dealer sent a shivers down his spine, but he seemed to be caught in an invisible vortex, he was unable to stop.

One day, when he was resting his head on the desk in his tired state, Fighting Rooster, one of his juniors, came in, handed him an envelope and said that,

"Brother Crown Prince, the uncles need you to go to Thailand for some business."

"Besides, I see you're so tired these days, so I've arranged some fun for you in Pattaya."

He went to Thailand, all discussion and negotiation went very smoothly, his clan was finally able to cooperate with that notorious tycoon.

Then, according to what Fighting Rooster had told him, he got on the car the younger had booked and went straight to the hotel in Pattaya.

Entering his room, he slumped on the bed, staring up at the crystal chandelier on the ceiling.

There was a knock on the door, and a high-pitched middle-aged woman's voice speaking Mandarin with a thick Thai accent. "Sir, I have brought your joy here. She can speak Cantonese, we hope that she would please you."

Fong Din did not turn the lock, so the person outside also arbitrarily turned the doorknob and entered. He was still lying motionless, not moving, not even paying attention to the other. All she could do was close the door behind her, then stand still, her head lowered, fidgeting with her fingertips.

Then, as if prompted by something, he stood up, glanced at the other person in the room, and spoke as if commanding. "Lift up your face and let me see."

She obediently followed what he said, a worried look on her immature face. Fong Din was stunned for a few moments, then he approached, grabbed the other's wrists, led her to the bed, his two hands forcefully pushed her down.

He undone the buttons on her shirt one by one, while bringing his lips to her ear, asked softly. "What's your name?"

"Pa-Paku..." She replied frantically.

"You must still be young. Eighteen? Twenty?"

"Sixteen, sir..."

Fong Din frowned, he felt like he was committing a crime. Why would life push the other to this road?

He only dared to place a small kiss on Paku's lips, that was all. He motioned for her to re-fasten the buttons herself, then went out onto the balcony. After lighting a cigarette, he returned, intending to tell her, "I want to redeem you, I will redeem you".

But she was gone, as per what inherently happened in this kind of business, he had no way to find her again.

———

After twenty-one years living in Czech, Dien Kim was grabbed by his cousin Khue Kim and brought back to Vietnam for a backpacking trip. At first, he was not happy, but then he thought that maybe he would have a chance to find the lost person, his mood also improved a bit.

The destination of both was a Hmong village in Cao Bang. During their time there, the two stayed in the village chief's house. When he met A Chi, the village chief's son, coming home from the field, Dien finally felt grateful that Khue took him to this place.

For several days in a row, Dien let Khue visit everywhere in the village alone, while he always followed A Chi, went up to the field to break corn, went with him to the stream to catch fish, and playfully splashed water to tease him. A Chi was not angry but just laughed.

Once, when the work in the field was finished, A Chi did not need Dien's help anymore, the foreigner went to the stone slab under a bauhinia variegata tree to rest, he took a bamboo flute out of the backpack slung over his shoulder, placing it on his lips to blow a soft song.

A Chi also took a leaf and sat next to Dien, he brought the leaf to his mouth, played a high-pitched, mesmerising sound, Dien found that his heart fluttered while listening to it.

Another day, the two stopped by a new house celebration in the middle of the village. A group of young men and women were playing the game of throwing pao when they saw two people appear, a Hmong girl glanced at Dien and smiled as a charm. She held a colorful pao in her hand and decisively threw it at Dien. He followed inertia to catch it, then turned and signaled to A Chi.

He gently dropped the pao into A Chi's outstretched palms and then smiled, leisurely walking a few steps ahead. Holding the pao given by the foreigner, A Chi's face was flushed with pink.

Soon, it was time for Dien and Khue to leave.

During the emotional farewell, Dien gave A Chi his flute, and promised to come again next spring, so that A Chi would take him to see the bauhinia variegata flowers.

Then he got caught up in the cycle of studying for exams, of the pressure to hold a diploma in hand. After several months had passed, he was then able to fulfill the promise he made earlier.

Returning to the old place alone, Dien looked around for the village chief's house yet not being able to recognize it, so he ventured to ask an old man he met on the street. "Uncle, I want to find the village chief's house."

"Since the day his son died, the village chief himself burned the house down and left."

Heard these words, Dien found that there was thunder in his ears.

"Y-you s-say d-died what... what do you mean?" He stammered until he finished the question.

"Last spring he failed to capture a wife. Then it went to the forest to find the most beautiful bauhinia variegata flower, the forest ghost caught him and dropped him off the rock cliff."

Every sentence and every word reverberated straight into his heart, making him stand frozen in place, unable to even say a word of thanks.

He trudged step by step, full of difficulty, to find the tree where he sat next to the Hmong boy that day. He dropped his body and sat down, covering his face with his hands and crying, tears falling through his fingers, onto the ground.

On the tree branch, a single crimson bauhinia variegata suddenly spread its petals.

The flower in his heart bloomed and splintered.

———

Unlike his peers who enjoyed the music of Snoop Dogg or Ice Cube, Kim Jeon was fascinated by a veteran ballad singer named Park Joon.

He had listened to Park Joon since the day he was born, it was his mother who turned up the music, and when he grew up, he was still passionate about that sweet voice.

Kim Jeon longed to get into a university in Seoul, so that he could meet Park Joon in person and show the older how much he adored him.

But his dream was soon shattered.

In the summer when Kim Jeon was 18 years old, Park Joon appeared in the newspaper's cover page for two days in a row.

For the first time, he announced that he would retire because his vocal cords were damaged and he could not continue his career.

The second time, he took his own life at home, leaving a brief will, 'I have nothing but this singing voice.'

———

Dien is a potential editor of a certain forum site, specializing in posting horror and supernatural genres. Readers loved all that he had to share, praising his talent, but those things could not give him a sense of completeness.

He decided to stop.

One last time, different from his usual unreal and fantasy stuffs, he posted a self-written story, which was all that had happened, what he had experienced in previous lifetimes.

At the end, he wrote some sentences in a foreign language, as if to partially express the torments he always carried.

보고 싶다 (I want to see you)

我想你 (I am thinking of you)

I missed you (I let you slip away from my reach)

The blank part of the hourglass was increasing day by day.

Time for him was running out, there were not many opportunities left for him.

One person with the username "pandaboi" commented that they felt the things he wrote were familiar, as if those were inhabited somewhere in their memory.

He suddenly felt like there was a flash of light, giving his heart some unstoppable anxiety.

But he didn't have time to reply, as the forum page was closed, all the data seemed to disappear into nothingness.

"The place where paper airplanes never fall" turned out to be where his hopes were drowned.

———

The feeling of restlessness and suspense had clung to Kanemoto Yoshinori's heart from the moment the company announced that they had a chance to go on an exchange trip, to interact with the trainees at the Korean headquarters, until when he went home to pack his things to go to the airport, when he was on the plane, when he landed in Incheon, when the bus took them all to the famous building in Hapjeong-dong, Mapo-gu, and those feelings didn't ease at all when they rushed into the designated waiting room.

He lowered his head, counting the patterns on the floorboards. And as the footsteps drew nearer and nearer, with all the anxious anticipation of all his lifetimes combined, he looked up and met the face of a boy about fifteen or sixteen years old, with monolids and a shy smile with braces.

The boy entered the room with a happy expression, he stood in front of the crowd, bowed and said, "Hello, nice to meet you all. I'm Park Jihoon."

Yoshinori took a deep breath, he got up from his seat, walked towards Jihoon, using the little Korean he had learned by rote before the flight to say word by word, slowly. "Hi Jihoon, glad to see you again."

"You can call me Kim Bangjeon."