Léo Young

Joined December 2025

7 stories

Stories (7)

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Blood Pact: Forbidden Gunshots on the Peckos Riverbank
1892, West Texas The Pecos River cut the land in two—to the north lay the Lawson family’s fifty thousand acres of rangeland; to the south, the McCarthy cotton plantation. Three decades of feuding over water rights had seeded a hatred deeper than the riverbed.
By Léo Young25 days ago in Fiction
Forbidden Coordinates: In Zurich, I Fell in Love with My Own DNA
In the autumn of 1946 in Zurich, fallen leaves piled up like unpaid war debts along the Limmat River. Irene Hartmann sat at the window seat of a café, checking her watch for the third time - there were still seven minutes until the appointed time of three o'clock in the afternoon. She came to meet an unacquainted cousin to inherit a box of letters left by her aunt.
By Léo Young25 days ago in Fiction
Forbidden Coordinates: In Zurich, I Fell in Love with My Own DNA
In the autumn of 1946 in Zurich, fallen leaves piled up like unpaid war debts along the Limmat River. Irene Hartmann sat at the window seat of a café, checking her watch for the third time - there were still seven minutes until the appointed time of three o'clock in the afternoon. She came to meet an unacquainted cousin to inherit a box of letters left by her aunt.
By Léo Young25 days ago in Fiction
"The Stranger on the Bridge"
In the late November evening of London, the damp and chilly fog rose along the Thames River. Emma tightened her scarf and hurried towards Waterloo Bridge - that was the shortcut she took every day after work. The bridge lights had just come on, casting a dim yellow glow in the fog.
By Léo Young28 days ago in Fiction
The White Cliff and the Swift Dove
June 1942 · London The air-raid sirens tore through the London dawn. James Miller was in the vaulted basement of the British Museum, gently wiping the lens of a damaged theodolite. Three months into the Blitz, he had grown accustomed to the distant thunder; the steadiness of his hands had become a quiet form of defiance.
By Léo Young29 days ago in Fiction
The Beijing Code. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
I arrived in Beijing loaded with apps and apprehension, ready to tick off a list of ancient marvels. What I ended up checking off was a list of my own assumptions. The city’s true wonder isn’t the Forbidden City—it’s an invisible operating system the Chinese call 符合 (fúhé), and learning its code rewired my way of being.
By Léo Young29 days ago in Art
Frost and Snow Mirror. Content Warning.
Just after the Winter Solstice, the first real snow fell. Beijing seemed to be wrapped in a huge, sound-absorbing blanket of cotton. At five o'clock in the morning, the sky was still pitch black, and the heating pipes in the neighborhood emitted a faint humming sound. I stood by the window, watching the lights of the convenience store downstairs still on - the 24-hour sign was blurred into a dim yellow glow in the snow curtain. Master Zhang, the owner of the store, is seventy years old. He is from Henan Province and always wears a dark blue woolen cap. At this moment, he was sweeping the snow at the entrance into a pile, and then laying a piece of hard cardboard on the steps.
By Léo Young29 days ago in Critique