By midmorning the mist had burned off and the stone was warm under Jin Rou's sandals. He swept like always, but the broom felt lighter and his arms didn't ache the same way. Something in him hummed thin, shy, like a string plucked once and left to tremble.
He checked to see if anyone was watching, then closed his eyes and tried the breathing from the beginner manual. Inhale to the dantian. Hold. Let the breath carry qi. Exhale slow.
For the first time since he'd joined the sect, it didn't feel like pretending.
A soft current rolled under his ribs, the way water slips through a crack. It wasn't strong, but it was real. He almost dropped the broom.
He peeked. No elders shouting. No bell of judgment. Just a junior practicing stance work in the corner and a pair of seniors arguing over who owed who a steamed bun.
He tried again. Inhale. Hold. His mind immediately ran to the kitchen courtyard.
She laughed. I lived. I didn't explode. Why does my face still feel hot?
He shook his head and focused. The current slipped a little farther and then stalled like it hit a knot.
The golden screen popped into the edge of his vision, cheerful.
---------------------------
State: Qi Root (Faint).Meridians: open (partial), blocked (mostly).Advice: Do not attempt advanced techniques. Also, stop staring at your own chest.
---------------------------
"I'm not..." He looked down. He was staring at his chest. He looked up again, scowled at the air, and swept hard enough to flip a stone tile.
A junior passed, glanced at him, and then at the empty space in front of his face, and sped up.
Jin Rou took the broom to the shade and leaned it against the wall. The practice yard had a training post at one end for outer disciples who wanted to feel useful. He approached it like it had insulted his ancestors.
"One test," he muttered. "Just to see."
He set his stance like the manual drawings—feet planted, hips square. He pulled in breath, tried to guide the new thread of qi down his arm, curled his fingers into a fist, and punched.
His knuckles met old wood.
Pain shot up his hand and into his wrist. He hissed and shook his hand out.
The post looked exactly the same.
He blew on his knuckles and told himself he could feel a tiny difference. Maybe the post respected him now. Maybe it would let him pass unharmed for the rest of his life.
---------------------------
Note: Outer post hardness: unchanged.
Host hand: slightly less pathetic.Progress is progress.
---------------------------
"Thank you," he said dryly.
A shadow fell over the post. Jin Rou turned. Three juniors stood a few paces away, bowls in hand, staring.
The shortest one, a boy with a shaved head and eager eyes, cleared his throat. "Senior Brother," he said, voice too loud. "Is it true you… uh… tempered your heart in the kitchen?"
Jin Rou stared at him. "I ate there," he said. "Does that count?"
The boy flushed. "No, I mean, my roommate said you spoke a confession, got rejected, and then you glowed." He made a little explosion with his fingers. "Like… hum."
"I did not glow." Jin Rou absolutely had glowed. "The sun was rude."
The tallest junior leaned in, fascinated. "Was that the Dao of Heart?"
"It was the Dao of I Need Breakfast," Jin Rou said. He picked up his broom. "Go train. Don't miss stance class."
They didn't move. The shaved-head boy lifted his bowl like a shield. "What should we… say, if we want to temper our hearts?"
"'Please pass the salt,'" Jin Rou said. "You can start there."
They blinked.
He walked away before they could ask for a scripture. The screen drifted along smoothly.
---------------------------
Popularity: +.Risk: +.Mission 2 Reminder: Confess Again, Idiot.Timer: 7:42:13.
---------------------------
"Plenty of time," he muttered, which was a lie his body did not believe.
He lasted an hour before his ears started to itch.
At first it was a tickle at the rim, like a gnat that wouldn't quit. He scratched. It didn't help. The sensation crawled inward, not painful but annoying in a way that felt unfair, the exact flavor of discomfort that made a person choose stupid things just to make it stop.
Jin Rou swore under his breath and went to the laundry steps.
Auntie Lin was on a stool with a bucket, peeling taro with a knife that had seen more battles than he had. She looked up without stopping the knife. "If you dropped more robes, just lie down now and save us both the time."
"I didn't. I came to… return the frame." He set the empty wicker frame by the wall. His ears itched like ants had rented rooms inside them.
Auntie Lin squinted at him. "You look like you rolled in nettles. Are you allergic to work now?"
"I'm fine." He tried to scratch without being obvious, which made it worse. "I need to… borrow a… carrot."
"A carrot," she repeated.
"For a test."
"We don't test carrots here. We cook them." She pointed her knife toward the side door. "Mei's in the vegetable store. If you distract her and the cabbages rot, I'll feed you to the pigs."
"I won't distract her," Jin Rou lied.
He took two steps, then stopped. His chest tightened. His hands got damp. His ears itched like they wanted to leave his head and live in a different county.
What exactly am I going to say? 'Hello again, I liked being rejected earlier. Could we repeat that?'
He backed away from the door and pretended to examine a crack in the courtyard stone. He lasted five full heartbeats before the itching made him see colors.
---------------------------
Rule 3: Cowardice → qi deviation.Alert: Minor turbulence detected.Suggested action: go do the thing.
---------------------------
"Don't say it like that," he whispered. "It sounds simple. It's not simple."
The door to the vegetable store creaked. Mei came out carrying a basket of scallions. She almost walked past him, stopped, and gave him a quick look—polite, blank, the look one gives a stranger who did something odd, once, and might do it again.
"Morning," she said. Her voice was steady. Her cheeks were not pink anymore. The little scar over her eyebrow moved when she squinted at the light.
Jin Rou's mouth decided this was a great time to be full of bees.
"Hi," he managed.
Silence.
He scrambled for words that weren't about ladles. "Thank you," he blurted.
"For the porridge?" Mei asked.
"Yes," he said, then added, before his brain forgot how to speak, "and for… not throwing it at me."
Mei blinked once. A breath like a laugh slipped out of her nose. "We don't waste porridge," she said. "Even on idiots."
"That's fair," he said meekly.
She shifted the basket in her arms. "Is your face going to do that again?"
"Do what?"
"Turn into a boiled crab."
"Oh." He considered lying. "Probably."
She looked at his ears. "Scratch less. It makes it worse."
He froze. "You can see that?"
"Everyone can see that," she said, deadpan, then stepped past him to the counter.
Auntie Lin watched this exchange like a falcon. When Mei set down the scallions, Auntie Lin said, "If this boy distracts you again, I will transition him to the afterlife with great speed."
"Understood," Mei said, mouth twitching.
Jin Rou took a breath. His ears were on fire. He had two choices: hide until sunset and discover what "social death (perceived)" actually felt like, or say something stupid now and get it over with.
He stepped toward the counter and set both hands on the wood so he wouldn't fidget. "Mei," he said carefully. "I need to say something again."
Auntie Lin's knife stopped mid-cut. "If it's about carrots," she said, "keep it."
"It's not about carrots," he said. He swallowed, looked at Mei, and made himself meet her eyes. "I meant what I said earlier. I like you."
Mei looked at him for two slow heartbeats. Then, very calmly, she reached into the basket, picked up a scallion, and tapped his knuckles with it. "No," she said. "Go sweep something."
The screen flared, delighted.
Rejection (repeat) acquired.Converting…Qi Surge +Humiliation Resistance (Minor+)Meridian micro-clearances: wrists, forearms.
The itch in his ears vanished like someone had cut a string. The warm current in his arms brightened, ran down to his fingertips, and then diffused in a soft tingle.
He hadn't noticed his shoulders were up by his ears until they dropped all at once. He breathed out a laugh he couldn't help.
Auntie Lin stared at his hands, then up at his face. She didn't say "did you just glow," but her eyes did.
Mei put the scallion back in the basket as if nothing mystical had happened. "Don't come back with poetry," she said. "Use it on the soap if you have extra."
"I don't have extra poetry," Jin Rou said honestly.
"Good," she said.
He bowed to Auntie Lin because he wanted to leave with his skin, and stepped back. The courtyard looked exactly the same. He felt… not strong, exactly, but aligned, like a bent plank that someone had set a weight on until it settled straighter.
He picked up his broom and went back to the outer yard. The three juniors were pretending to practice while watching him. When he came around the corner, they snapped into their stances so fast one of them fell over.
The shaved-head boy blurted, "Senior Brother, your ears stopped being red!"
"Congratulations to my ears," Jin Rou said, and began to sweep.
They hovered. The tallest one said, in a whisper meant to be private, "He looks different."
"How?" the shortest asked.
"Like… less small."
"I can hear you," Jin Rou said.
They froze, then bowed so fast their foreheads almost bounced. "Yes, Senior Brother!"
He sighed. "Don't copy me. You'll get slapped for nothing."
"We get slapped for lots of things," the shortest said helpfully. "At least this would be for cultivation."
Jin Rou paused. The broom bristles whispered over stone. "Listen," he said, trying to sound like he knew what he was doing. "If you go around bothering girls for 'cultivation,' you'll deserve what happens next. And it won't make you strong. It'll make you stupid."
They stared at him like he'd said a profound thing. He had not. He'd said a normal thing. Their eyes put robes on it anyway.
The screen bobbed.
---------------------------
Accidental guidance delivered.Reputation: +.Rumor momentum: beginning.
---------------------------
"Don't start rumors," Jin Rou told the air.
"Who are you talking to?" the shaved-head boy asked.
"My tragic fate," Jin Rou said.
The juniors nodded as if that was a sect term.
He finished sweeping and went to the pump to wash his hands. The water was cold and woke up all the small aches. His knuckles throbbed where the post had refused to be impressed. He flexed his fingers and watched the way the faint qi traced his tendons. If he focused, he could feel the tiniest ease in the wrist meridians. If he stopped focusing, it slid away.
He wanted to sit and breathe for an hour. He wanted to crawl under the laundry and nap for a week. He wanted to leave the sect and open a noodle stall in a town where no one had ever heard the words "Dao of Rejection."
The bell for midday classes rang. A small group of outer disciples trudged past with training swords, talking loud on purpose, like volume could keep shame from catching up.
One of the seniors who'd laughed earlier, the one with sharp cheekbones and a habit of flipping his sleeves too much, slowed as he passed Jin Rou. He looked at Jin Rou's hands, then at his face, and didn't laugh.
"Floor-Saint," he said, cautious. "If you… have insights into… heart tempering, maybe you should share at evening practice."
"I have insights into sweeping," Jin Rou said. "I can share those all day."
The senior's eyes flicked to the faint spot where the screen hovered, like he could feel heat from it without seeing. "Still," he said, and moved on.
Jin Rou dried his hands on his robe and looked at the empty air. "This is how you get me killed," he told the screen. "Making them think I know things."
---------------------------
Correction: They think you feel things.It is different. And rarer.
---------------------------
He had no answer for that. He picked up the broom again out of habit and because it was something to do that didn't involve standing very still while the world stared at him.
By early afternoon his little corner of the courtyard was as clean as a painting. Auntie Lin sent a child with a tray, the rarest of miracles: a bowl of noodles, a slice of pickled radish, and a note that said return tray or lose hands.
Jin Rou slurped the noodles behind the laundry steps and tried to act like a man not hiding from attention. The screen hovered at a respectful angle and, for once, did not flash words at his face.
He waited for the itch. It did not come.
He exhaled so hard the noodles almost fled the bowl. "So if I keep doing the missions on time, you don't try to crawl into my ears?"
---------------------------
Correct.Compliance maintains meridian stability.Avoidance creates turbulence.You are not being punished. You are being reminded.
---------------------------
"It feels like punishment," he said.
---------------------------
Yes.
---------------------------
He tilted the bowl to get the last broth and thought about the morning. Mei's quick laugh. The gentle "no." The tap of the scallion against his knuckles like a little ritual: go back to your work, fool, the sky will still be there later.
His face heated again, but this time it wasn't from shame alone. It was from relief. He'd spoken and wasn't a smear on the flagstones. The world had not ended. The worst case had been a tiny vegetable hitting his hand.
What did that say about him, that a small no felt like a door cracked open somewhere?
He scrubbed the bowl, returned the tray (kept both hands), and went back to the yard.
By late afternoon, the juniors had dispersed to class and the seniors had gone to pretend they were inner disciples at the far platform. The courtyard emptied. The light went gold. The stones gave back the heat of the day.
The screen flicked on another line with annoying politeness.
---------------------------
Optional Micro-Mission:Title: Apologize for the inconvenience.Target: Same.Reward: +Comprehension (social), +Humiliation Resistance (trace).Penalty: none.Note: Not all rejections require exit wounds. Try sincerity without seeking harvest.
---------------------------
Jin Rou stared. "You can do missions without power?"
---------------------------
Everything is cultivation. Power is a side effect.
---------------------------
"That sounds like something an elder says right before they assign latrine duty."
The screen did not disagree.
He thought about the juniors who wanted to copy him and felt a cold prickle under the warm hum. If idiots started harassing girls and called it training, someone would get hurt, and it would be his fault whether the logic was fair or not.
"Fine," he said. "One apology."
He found Mei near the side door again, washing greens in a clay basin. Auntie Lin wasn't in sight. A cat was, draped on a windowsill like a rag soaked in arrogance.
Mei looked up when his shadow fell across the basin. "Back?" she said.
"I wanted to say sorry for… earlier," he said. "And for this morning. I made your work weird. I'll try not to do it where it gets in the way."
Mei studied his face, then his hands, then the cat, which yawned as if to say, I reject you all.
"You could wait until after breakfast rush," she said. "And not… loom."
"I don't know how to loom," he said.
"You do," she said, mouth almost smiling. "But. Thank you. Apology accepted."
The screen warmed his peripheral vision.
Micro-Mission complete.Comprehension (social): +.Observation unlocked: sincere apology ≠ acceptance.
He nodded. "Then I'll go not loom somewhere else."
"Good," she said. She flicked a drop of water at him. It hit his sleeve. "And don't stare at people like you're about to fight a cabbage."
"I was not....." He glanced at the basin. The cabbages looked terrifying.
He stepped back, bumped the door, caught it with his hand. "Sorry," he said again. It was easier the second time.
He turned to leave, then paused. "Do you… have any turnips?" he asked, not sure why his mouth had chosen that word.
Mei looked at him like he had asked whether the sky planned to visit tomorrow. She jerked her chin toward a crate by the wall. "Plenty," she said. "Why?"
"No reason," he said quickly, and escaped.
Back in the yard, he stared at the crate of turnips from a safe distance like a man recognizing a future enemy.
The screen, for once, did not comment. It put a small hourglass in the corner of his vision instead.
---------------------------
Daylight remaining: 2:13:06.Upcoming: further missions. Prepare your heart. Hydrate.
---------------------------
"Hydrate," he repeated. "Now you sound like Auntie Lin."
---------------------------
She is wise.
---------------------------
Jin Rou sat on the low wall, drank from the water jar, and let the late sun soak into his shoulders. His body felt the same and different: the same aches, the same loose thread at the back of his left shoulder, the same empty belly telling him life was unfair; different in that when he breathed, the breath had somewhere to go.
He thought of the life he'd pictured when he was a child—swords, glory, a perfect stance on a sunset ridge. He thought of the morning—steam, laughter, a soft "no," a scallion tapping his knuckles—and tried to decide if this counted as heroism.
It did not. But it counted as something.
The bell for evening practice rang. Voices rose. Somewhere, an elder coughed like thunder. The cat rejected a bird by not even looking at it.
Jin Rou stood. He picked up the broom. He set it aside again. He flexed his fingers and felt the tiny new ease in his wrists.
"Fine," he told the air.
The screen made a small approving sound he refused to believe he liked.
He headed toward the vegetable store, heart steady-er, step almost light. When he reached the door, he glanced once at the crate. Turnips sat there, smug and round.
He nodded at them like a man meeting rivals at a gathering.
"Not today," he said under his breath. "But soon."