"What does that mean? Say it clearly."
"It will tint your trust toward your workers," he said. "Do you still want to know? If you choose not to know, I will try to solve it by myself, slowly and in secret."
Miss Ruyin closed her eyes for a heartbeat. When she opened them, they were steady. "I want to know it, even if it may hurt me."
Little water's shoulders lowered with a long, quiet sigh. "You are poisoned."
Her fingers tightened around the teacup. "What? Are you sure I am poisoned? Who poisoned me?"
"You are indeed poisoned," he said, "but your body has adapted to it over the years. Now it no longer harms you directly."
"Then why am I unlucky?" she asked, voice thin. "It must have some harm, isn't it?"
Little water did not answer. He looked at her belly.
She followed his gaze. All the color left her face. "Is it harmful to my baby?"
He nodded once.
Her throat worked. She pressed her palm to the table to keep herself from swaying. On the side, Qianya's eyes widened behind the veil. She took a small step closer to her lady.
"You also said she is lucky and you are unlucky," Qianya said carefully. "It means she can be saved."
"Yes," Little water said. "She can be saved."
Miss Ruyin's voice trembled. "What… what will happen to my child?"
Little water spoke without softening. "Your condition is special. Your body is immune to the poison, but the unborn child is not. There is an eighty percent chance she will die when she comes out of your body. The other twenty percent is the chance she may live, but her life will be short. Ten years at most, and her body will always be sick."
Miss Ruyin swallowed a sob. "Where is the luck in it? It is all bad luck."
"I can make the eighty go down to twenty," Little water said. "Then there will be a chance to cure her fully. Or she may be born healthy but lose her ability to cultivate." He did not dress it in numbers now. He looked her in the eyes so she would hear the meaning: the odds can change.
She shut her eyes and breathed through her nose until the trembling left her hands. "Then do it."
"Didn't you remember what I said first?" Little water answered. "If you are lucky, then I am unlucky. I do not have enough cultivation. I have no immunity to poison. I don't even know about this world."
"This world?" she asked, almost a whisper. "You are not from here, are you?"
"No," Little water said. "I am from the above world."
Miss Ruyin stared. "I should have known. A mortal cannot stay without food and water for days. You were a cultivator, but lost your cultivation and came to the mortal realm."
Little water's mouth tilted in a small smile. "Oh. Then I know you are also from the above world, and you also lost your cultivation. That is why you are immune to poison."
"Yes," she said softly. "I was from the middle realm. Here, in the mortal realm, the middle realm is called the immortal realm."
"What was your cultivation there?" Little water asked.
"Core Creation, middle stage."
"Oh." He studied her face. "Then you cultivated for about fifty to sixty years."
"Yes." She drew the veil of calm back over herself and looked toward the boy by the rail. "Tell me. Is Zhihao also poisoned?"
"No," Little water said. "He is also immune."
"How?"
"Zhihao has lightning qi circulating in his body," Little water said. "It makes the poison disappear before it can root."
"Lightning?" Miss Ruyin frowned. "I didn't know there is a lightning element. Can he cultivate?"
"Yes," Little water said. "He can. But his path will be painful. He does not need to cultivate now. When he is ready to bear the weight, he can."
Miss Ruyin turned back to him. "You know who poisoned me, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Tell me who."
"I already told you," Little water said. "It will tint your trust toward your workers. You will find it hard to trust them fully again."
From the side, Qianya's voice came clear. "Tell her who poisoned her."
Little water reached for the tea with two fingers and swirled it. Tiny ripples lapped the rim. He set the cup down. "The tea you drank now is also poisoned. And the one who poisoned it is none other than you, Qianya."
The cup in Miss Ruyin's hand slipped, hit the table edge, and shattered on the floor. Tea ran into the grooves between the boards and over the carved foot of the table.
Qianya did not move for a breath. Then she dropped to her knees. "My lady," she said, voice breaking. "I never betrayed you. I never poisoned you."
Miss Ruyin pressed a hand to her chest. Her eyes searched Qianya's face and found only confusion and fear. "Are you… mistaken?" she asked Little water.
"No," Little water said. "The one who poisoned you is Qianya."
A guard who had been carrying planks past the pavilion heard the words. He spun, drew his sword, and charged at Qianya with a shout. Qianya did not flinch or rise. She knelt there with her head bowed.
The guard stopped in mid-stride as if a rope had yanked him. He froze, one foot in the air, blade raised. Sweat popped on his brow. His eyes bulged.
"I have found an experiment pig for tonight," Little water said quietly.
He stood, walked over, and tapped the guard at the base of the skull with two knuckles. The man sagged into his arms. Little water let him down gently onto the pavilion floor.
Then he held out a hand to Qianya. "Stand."
She hesitated. He took her forearm and helped her up, then guided her to a stool. "Sit. Do not kneel again."
Little water looked to the doorway. "You," he called to a second guard who had gone pale at the scene. "Come here."
The man came at once, swallowing hard.
"Take this unconscious fool to the old house," Little water said. "Leave him there. Close the door."
"Yes!" The guard slung the unconscious man over his shoulder and hurried away, boots thumping the path, glancing back only once.
Little water faced Miss Ruyin. "Qianya poisoned you," he said, gentler now, "but she did it unintentionally. She does not know she was poisoning others. Her qi is poison. It leaks without her will."
Miss Ruyin stared at him, then at Qianya. The veil hid most of her face, but her eyes were wet. "If… if I don't believe you?" she whispered.
"You can take out your Lamp of Truth," Little water said, "and use it on her. Ask and see."
Miss Ruyin blinked. "How do you know I have a Lamp of Truth?" Then she shook her head. "Never mind."
She reached into her sleeve and set a small bronze lamp on the table. Its body was shaped like a lotus boat. When she breathed a wisp of qi into the wick, a clear flame rose—steady, bright, without smoke.
"Ask her," Miss Ruyin said.
Little water looked at Qianya. "Do you poison her?"
"No," Qianya said.
The lamp flame did not even flicker.
Little water spread his hands. "See? She is innocent. She herself doesn't know about her condition. How can she poison you with intent?"
Miss Ruyin stared at the living flame, then nodded once, sharp. "Fine. Now we know the truth. Put the lamp back."
Little water lifted a finger. "I want to ask her another question, Miss Ruyin."
"Go ahead."
He faced Qianya. "When we came to the pavilion on the first day, you were glaring at my body, weren't you?"
Miss Ruyin's lips curved. She could not help it. "Answer him."
"No," Qianya said quickly. "I was not glaring at him."
The lamp's flame went out in a breath.
Silence. Then Qianya's eyes widened; color rushed up her cheeks beneath the veil. Miss Ruyin laughed softly and touched her arm. "It is natural to be attracted to others sometimes, Qianya."
Little water relit the lamp with a touch of his finger and then, with a calm face, poured fresh tea. He placed a cup by Miss Ruyin's hand, another before Qianya, and kept one for himself.
As steam rose, Qianya asked in a low voice, not looking up, "What will happen to me… if my poison is leaking?"
"I will help you control it," Little water said. "You will learn to hold it in your bones and skin. You will learn when to let it flow and when to seal it. You will not harm those you serve."
Qianya's shoulders loosened. "Thank you," she whispered.
Miss Ruyin set her palms flat on the table. "What things do you need? I will provide them."
"I need medicinal herbs," Little water said. "Clean ones, fresh if possible. I need cultivation books—anything you have here in the mortal realm that speaks of channels, breathing, body tempering, poison methods, or healing. And I need something to help me know about this world—its rules, maps, customs."
"I will send everything tomorrow," Miss Ruyin said at once. "As for learning about the mortal realm—Qianya can tell you. She knows the houses, the streets, the rules. And you can also treat her."
Little water nodded. "Good."
A breeze moved through the garden. The koi turned under the lotus leaves, their backs silver for a blink and then gone. Zhihao's sword finally found a rhythm; he was counting under his breath, not quite in time, but trying with all the fire of seven years.
From the far side of the grounds came the low sound of hammers and saws at work again. The old house would soon have shelves and a bath, a study, a bed. The table for four would stand under the old tree, its shade falling in a round pool on the earth.
Little water lifted his tea and drank. The cup was plain clay, tiny flaws in its rim where the potter's thumb had pressed. He watched the steam rise and fade and thought of the steps ahead: herbs to gather, books to read, a poison to tame, a child to protect, a boy with thunder in his veins, a mother balancing fear and steel.
He set the cup down without a sound.
"Qianya," he said, "after sunset, come to the old house. We will begin with breathing. No qi release. Only control."
She nodded.
"Zhihao," he called.
The boy ran over, sword in hand, cheeks flushed.
"You like this sword?"
"Yes!" Zhihao bounced on his heels.
"Then hold it like this." Little water adjusted his grip, set his feet apart, and pressed the boy's elbow down a finger's width. "Don't force. Let your breath lead the blade. When the air moves, you move. When it stops, you stop."
Zhihao tried. The blade steadied. The boy's grin grew.
Miss Ruyin watched them, one hand resting over her belly. Her gaze was still clouded, but the edges had softened. The fear had not left. But it had met something that held firm once and promised to hold again.
Above the pond, a dragonfly hovered, wings a blur in the light. The lamp of truth burned on the table, flame clear and small, as if it, too, were listening.
----To be Continued---