Scroll 11: Three Years of Innocent Villainy
Three years had passed like a whirling wind over the big Xie house, and now it was full of life and gayety and the low rumble that only a child can make. The big house, half-obscured by old-world cypress and mists of morning, echoed with the steps of servants, with the jangle of jade ornaments, with the ceaseless pounding of a world that was turning on tradition and authority.
Here in this bustling Eden was Xie Longyuan, a child in shape, but far older in mind a cupid-faced genius, with eyes of polished jet and a smile that could soften even the sternest of the clan elders. He crept about the house with an indifference that no boy of his years should be acquainted with, in and among the pillars of silk and lacquered wood furniture like a fox in a hen-house.
Longyuan smiled, innocently. He used it with the cold calculation of a calculating charm that was calculated to win the hearts of all whom he met. The elder maids his sisters in name, at least were ready enough to be the objects of his unwearying attentions. They kissed and tugged at one another with an impotent impatience as of porcelain bells in some abandoned temple, in the rain. A protest would be heard:--Come now, brat, don t smother me, and the person would endeavour to free herself, but never without a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Wet nurses, those caretakers who had been by his side since birth, faced his teasing tactics with a wary patience that only grew with time. There was a habitual mischievousness to how he would poke at them sometimes with a finger trailing dangerously close to their breasts, a gesture innocent enough on the surface but dripping with mischievous intent. Each poke was followed by a sudden, wide-eyed innocence that seemed to say, "Who, me?" Adults watching from the shadows often suppressed chuckles, caught between concern for propriety and genuine amusement. Despite their efforts to scold, their eyes twinkled with a reluctant fondness.
Every prank and every innocent act of affection, was another drip-feed into the invisible reservoir of system points that flowed through Longyuan's secret consciousness. The laughter he evoked, the attention he garnered, each smile he unleashed, stacked like bricks building the fortress of his future power.
Yet beneath the cherubic grin, the cold logic of a seasoned tactician churned. This was no child simply enjoying the soft luxuries of youth this was a strategist, a calculating mind wrapped in the guise of innocence. He observed every reaction, learned every weakness, stored every response for future use. In this game of survival and supremacy, Longyuan had long since abandoned the idea of simple childhood. His actions were steps on a path carefully paved to an unseen end.
Days in the estate moved with a rhythm punctuated by the ritual care bestowed upon him. Qi-rich milk was fed to him at dawn and dusk, a fragrant, warm liquid that smelled faintly of sweet herbs and honeyed flowers. It wasn't mere nourishment it was alchemical, designed to weave strength into his bones and spirit. The maids would hold the milk close to their faces, inhaling its potent aroma, murmuring to each other about its rare quality and the favor of the heavens that had blessed this child.
After feeding, ointments infused with rare spirit herbs were rubbed carefully into his skin, warming and fortifying his fragile frame. The scent of crushed moonleaf and white lotus filled the small chambers where he was cared for, a sensory blanket of calm and healing. Skilled hands worked these balms with steady precision, rubbing, massaging, coaxing energy to flow smoothly beneath the surface.
The manuals were confidential, and lay in the corner of the back of the estate, yellow with age, and full of antique methods of cultivation, and to be perused by the best. The pages were written in an ancient character, but the weird brain of Longyuan assimilated their contents, and converted wisdom into action with a weird facility. The system gave him knowledge as a constant stream of information, and it was able to fill in the gaps that others did not see at all.
Potential energy was brewing in Longyuan with these well-controlled rituals and understanding of the dantian. His tiny frame vibrated with the rudiments of cultivation of the foundations--the all-important initial step that every cultivator aimed to learn. He did not care to live, he wanted to live, to be on top, to shadow the fate, which was predetermined by blood and prophecy.
In the meantime the estate was all agog with the hushed anticipation of the Second Brother, the so-called Child of Destiny, whose arrival was yet not arrived. The elders of the clan were filled with hope and competition to see the birth that will succeed Longyuan in the family. Yet to the infant mind there was only one thing certain, that he must achieve Foundation cultivation first, and destroy this competitor ere fate had time to establish its own path. The concept was a sharp blade that was hidden within his childhood.
But above ambition and survival there was another thread running through his plotting mind: how to make this old world a bit more comfortable to himself. Warmth was not a minor whim of a child who recalled chilly nights, isolation and a former life of sterile technology and convenience. Women were still to bring water in buckets to the well, firewood to be heaped by hands hardened, and warmth to be wrung out of smouldering braziers.
He imagined simple inventions that might make life easier. Could he rig a pulley system for carrying water? Maybe even design rudimentary pipes from bamboo or clay, channeling the flow to his chambers without servitude's constant interruption. What about a better stove, a cozy bed with soft blankets woven from finer silk, or even a small garden where he could grow the rare herbs used in his ointments?
The faint buzz of the system sounded a cheerful ding:
[System Message: Age Chatbot-L17 has been unlocked.]
Longyuan's eyes flickered with quiet triumph, the ghost of a smirk touching his lips. This meant the world's secrets were about to become a little less mysterious and his plans, a lot more dangerous.
His three years of innocent villainy had only just begun.