đĄď¸Â Chapter 20: The Birth of the Fever World
đ February 28, 99 BCE â Late Winter âď¸
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đĄď¸ The Fever Spreads
At the peak of winter, when the snow lay heavy and the daylight was little more than a pale blink between long nights, sickness came.
It struck like an unseen handâfever, chills, aching limbs, and bone-deep fatigueâsweeping through the village without care for age or strength. The children fell first, as such ailments often choose their path: runny noses, glassy eyes, flushed cheeks. Worry took hold fast. The elders remembered winters when such an illness had emptied entire homes.
Yet the little ones, to everyone's surprise, recovered quickly. Within a handful of days, they were running the paths again, thinner but laughing, and hungrier than ever.
Then the grown folk began to fallâsave for one household.
The Ruibo familyâJunjie, his father Chengde, and his mother Lianhuaâmoved through the days untouched. While their neighbors lay bundled in furs and blankets, they split firewood in the yard and patched roofs as though it were the first breath of spring.
Whispers grew. Some credited the herbal brews Lianhua simmered over the hearth. Others thought Chengde had learned a caravaner's medicine during his years in the desert. A few muttered about spirits or mountain blessings.
Not all whispers were kind. A few elders made signs against ill fortune when Junjie passed. One woman refused to accept a ladle of stew from his hands. Yet when a child's fever eased after he adjusted their blanket, the rumors shifted againâtoward something protective, even sacred.
Mothers pressed tea into his hands. Young men asked him for advice on keeping strong through the cold. Someone left rice cakes at his family's door with a prayer scroll tucked beneath.
The truth, known only to Junjie and the voice in his head, was far stranger.
𧏠Nano's Quiet Intervention
While Junjie worked among the sickâfetching water, tending fires, carrying herbsâNano had been quietly waging a different battle. Weeks earlier, when the rebuilding of the village was well under way, he had begun shaping a slow, unseen defense.
Nano's work was quiet, unremarkable to the eyeâhe used engineered viruses to alter their very DNA, carried on the warmth of breath, the faint oils of skin, the moisture clinging to shared tools and cups. They were harmless in themselves, but potent in purposeârewriting the body's defenses instead of breaking them down. No cure, but protection of a sort, passed in touch, breath, and time.
When Junjie finally asked why his family had been spared, Nano's answer was simple:
"Community resilience is more valuable than individual strength."
A pause, then something quieter:
"They will face harsher seasons than this. The weak will suffer most. This was... necessary."
And then, without ceremony, Nano returned to calculating grain storage figures, as though the matter were closed.
đ After the Fever
The illness held the village for nearly two weeks. A few elders bore it harder, but none were lostâa gift no one could recall in winters past.
When the last coughs faded and the fevers broke, something lingered. People found themselves waking earlier, feeling lighter, breathing easier. Sleep was deeper. Old aches dulled or disappeared. The air smelled sharper. The snow shone brighter.
Some dreamed vividlyâstrange places of flowing light, vast skies, and voices speaking in words they half-understood. A few claimed to sense changes in the weather before they came, or to notice game tracks others missed.
Lianhua remembered a far-off oasis, long ago in her caravan days, where a sickness had passed through and left behind a people hardier than before. This felt the same.
Thanks rose from every hearth: offerings to river spirits, prayers to mountain gods, a nod to the silent stars. Incense burned, food was set aside, and ancient songs were hummed by the fire.
Only Junjie and Nano knew the truthâthat the fever had tested the village, and, with a little unseen help, they had passed.
đ§ Winter Passes Quietly
With the sick recovering and the workshops still alive with work, the last stretch of winter seemed to slip by unnoticed. Gratitude replaced complaint. The people were busy, mending what needed mending, finishing what could be done before the thaw.
They had survived the cold, endured the fever, and, though they could not yet see it clearly, stepped into the first days of a stronger world.