The branch compound was smaller than I expected.
Not in a bad way. Just — compact. Efficient. The kind of space that had been organized by someone who knew exactly what every corner was for and had never wasted one. Training grounds on the left. Storage buildings along the back wall. A wide open courtyard in the center that smelled like old stone and something green I couldn't identify yet.
The herb garden was along the eastern wall.
I stood in front of it for a moment.
It was a very large garden.
Ji Rui appeared at my shoulder.
"The east section needs weeding," she said. "The south beds need water. The corner plots haven't been turned in two weeks."
"That's a lot of garden."
"Yes."
"For one person."
"Outer disciples work in rotation," she said. "You'll have help some days."
"And today?"
She looked at the garden. Then at me.
"Today you'll have help," she said, in the tone of someone who had already decided something and wasn't going to elaborate.
I looked at the garden again.
Fine, I thought. Gardening. This is fine.
The tools were in a shed near the south wall. Basic — trowels, rakes, a watering vessel that was heavier than it looked, a small knife for cutting back overgrowth. Everything worn smooth from years of use but still solid. Someone had maintained these carefully.
I picked up a trowel.
Looked at it.
Started toward the east section.
"Your grip is wrong."
I stopped.
Turned around.
Nobody was there.
I looked at the shed. At the courtyard. At the garden.
Then I looked up.
The man from the Kongshi table was sitting on top of the east wall. Legs hanging over the edge. Notebook in one hand. Grass stem at the corner of his mouth. Looking extremely pleased with himself and the general situation.
He pointed at my trowel. The point went slightly wide.
"Grip," he said. "Wrong."
"I'm holding a trowel."
"Mhm."
"It's a trowel. There's one way to hold a trowel."
"Ohhhh." The grass stem moved. "Is there though."
"How did you get up there."
"East fence gap." He tilted his head toward the corner. "Your east fence has a gap. Should fix that."
I looked at the corner of the wall.
There was, in fact, a gap.
"You climbed through a gap in the fence to sit on top of the wall."
"Eeeeey." He seemed pleased this was understood. "Come on. Grip."
I looked at my trowel.
Shifted my hand slightly.
The angle changed. Something in my wrist settled differently. It felt — not dramatically different. Just less wrong.
"There." He tapped his notebook against his knee. "Better."
"That's the same grip."
"Is it."
"I moved my hand like half an inch."
"Mhm."
I stared at him.
He looked at the garden with the expression of someone who had nowhere else to be and was genuinely pleased about that.
"East section's not going to weed itself, kiddo."
I turned back to the garden.
Started weeding.
He stayed on the wall for the entire morning.
Not doing anything in particular. Just — there. Notebook open sometimes, writing things I couldn't see. Grass stem migrating from one corner of his mouth to the other. Occasionally commenting on things.
"Your left row is uneven."
I straightened it.
"The corner plot has something growing in it that shouldn't be."
I checked. He was right.
"That one's not a weed."
I put it back.
He didn't say anything else for a while after that.
Around midmorning a boy appeared at the south entrance of the compound. About my age. Well-dressed even in outer disciple robes — there was something in how he wore them that said the robes were new and the person wearing them was unhappy about what they represented.
The loud one from the written test.
He looked at the compound like it had personally offended him. Then at the training grounds. Then at the storage buildings along the back wall.
A senior disciple appeared from somewhere and pointed him toward the storage buildings.
The loud one looked at the storage buildings.
Looked at me in the garden.
"You got gardening," he said.
"Yes," I said.
"I got the storage rooms."
I looked at the storage buildings. Dark inside even from here. The kind of dark that suggested things had been accumulating in there for a long time.
"I heard," I said.
He stood there for a moment with the expression of someone doing very fast calculations about life choices.
"I don't like spiders," he said.
I looked at him properly for the first time. Not the gold orb result or the old money robes or the loud energy. Just — a person standing outside a dark storage room looking like he was reconsidering everything.
"What's your name," I said.
He blinked. Like nobody had asked that in a while without already knowing the answer.
"Feng Zian," he said.
"Qin Mu."
Neither of us said anything else.
Then Feng Zian squared his shoulders, picked up the supply list someone had handed him, and walked toward the storage rooms with the expression of someone walking into battle.
I went back to the weeds.
From the wall above —
"Oh la la," the Kongshi man said pleasantly. "Character development."
"Stop watching everything," I said.
"Eeeeey it's a public wall."
"You're sitting on private sect property."
"The gap was right there."
I pulled a weed.
Ji Rui found me at midday near the water pump.
She looked at the east wall.
At the man sitting on it.
At the grass stem.
At me.
"Master Yang," she said. Very controlled.
"Ohhhh." He pointed at her. The point went slightly wide. "Master Baby. Good morning."
"It's midday."
"Good midday then."
Ji Rui looked at me. The specific look of someone adding things to a very long list.
"He was already here when I arrived," I said.
"The gap," the Kongshi man said helpfully, "was right there. Really should fix that."
"Master Yang," Ji Rui said again, with slightly more weight behind it.
"Master Baby," he said, in exactly the same pleasant tone. "We've been over this."
They looked at each other.
The grass stem moved to the other corner of his mouth.
Ji Rui looked at me. "South beds," she said. "After lunch."
She walked away.
The Kongshi man watched her go with the expression of someone who found this extremely entertaining.
"She's great," he said.
"She's terrifying," I said.
"Eeeeey." He hopped off the wall. Landed slightly badly. Recovered with complete dignity. "Same thing, kiddo."
He fell into step beside me toward the dining area like he had always been planning to do exactly this.
I looked at him sideways.
"You're not a disciple here."
"Nope."
"You're not affiliated with Liuying Sect."
"Nope."
"You came through a gap in the fence to sit on a wall all morning."
"Yeeeeyy." He seemed genuinely pleased by this summary. "About that offer—"
"No."
"Eeeeey. Okay." Notebook tap. "About the trowel grip—"
"I already changed it."
"The second knuckle," he said. "Just slightly."
I looked at my hand.
"That's—"
"Try it."
I adjusted. Marginally. The trowel was back in the shed but something in my hand settled differently even without it.
"...How," I said.
He smiled. The good smile. Easy and warm and sitting in a face that had clearly seen things and decided to keep smiling anyway.
"Eat your lunch," he said. "South beds won't water themselves."
I was near the south beds in the afternoon when I heard the sound.
Small. Familiar.
From the direction of the east fence gap.
I turned around.
Little Carp was halfway through the gap, dried flower in hand, examining the gap itself with the focused attention of someone conducting a structural analysis.
"How did you know about this gap," I said.
She looked at me. Then at the gap. Then back at me with the expression she used when adults asked questions with obvious answers.
"The funny man used it this morning," she said. "I was investigating."
"You were investigating the fence gap."
"I was investigating everything." She finished coming through, dusted herself off, looked around the compound. Her eyes went immediately to the herb garden. Then the storage buildings. Then the training grounds. Then back to me. "This place has good foundation stones. Better than the settlement."
"Please don't investigate the sect compound."
"I'm already here."
She walked toward the herb garden with complete purpose.
From somewhere across the compound came a familiar voice.
"Ohhhh." A pause. "Would you look at that."
I turned.
The Kongshi man was leaning against the storage building wall. Grass stem. Notebook. Watching Little Carp crouch down to examine the herb garden foundation with her full detective focus.
He looked at me.
"Smart kid," he said. "Yeeeeyy."
"Don't encourage her."
"The gap was right there." He spread his hands. Slightly too wide. "What was she supposed to do."
Little Carp had found something near the second herb bed and was examining it with the knife she had somehow acquired from somewhere.
"Where did she get that knife," I said.
"Shed," the Kongshi man said.
"How does she know where the shed is."
"She investigated."
I looked at the sky briefly.
"Baka," the Kongshi man said, very softly, with what sounded like genuine fondness.
I wasn't sure which of us he was talking to.
Maybe both.
The old elder came through the compound in the late afternoon.
He walked the path he always walked — measured, unhurried, the circuit of someone who had done this every day for longer than I had been alive. Past the training grounds. Along the storage building wall. Around the edge of the herb garden.
He paused near the east section.
Looked at the weeding.
His eyes moved to me.
One beat.
Maybe two.
Not the way the grandmother looked at me — not that layered complicated thing I still had no framework for. This was quieter. More like someone checking something they had been watching for a long time.
Then he kept walking.
Past the water pump. Around the corner. Gone.
I watched him go.
From the east wall — the Kongshi man had climbed back up at some point — I felt rather than heard a shift in attention. The grass stem going still for just a second.
I didn't look up.
Kept weeding.
The day ended slowly.
The sun going down over the compound walls. The compound settling into its evening quiet. Feng Zian emerging from the storage rooms at some point looking like he had been through something he would not be discussing. Little Carp had been redirected twice more and had found two more things of interest and had been very reasonable about being asked to leave.
I was putting tools away in the shed when the Kongshi man appeared in the doorway.
"First day," he said.
"Yes."
"How was it."
I put the trowel back on its hook. The grip felt different even in the putting-away.
"Fine," I said.
"Eeeeey." He was quiet for a moment. Just leaning in the doorway. Notebook tapping slow against his palm. Grass stem at the corner of his mouth. "Hey. About the offer—"
"Still no."
"Ohhhh." He didn't seem particularly disappointed. "Okay." He straightened. Did a small gesture that involved his elbow going somewhere. "Same time tomorrow then."
"You're coming back tomorrow."
"East fence gap," he said. "Still there."
He walked away across the compound toward the east wall.
I watched him go.
"Hey," I said.
He stopped. Turned.
"What's your name," I said.
He looked at me for a moment. The grass stem moved to the center of his mouth. The easy smile did something — not changing exactly, just — warming slightly. Like a fire that had been burning for a while finally finding the right kind of wood.
"Yang," he said. He pointed at himself. The point went slightly wide. "But you—" He pointed at me. Also slightly wide. "—can call me Master Baby."
He waited.
I looked at him.
"...Master Baby," I said.
The smile went full.
"Yeeeeyy." He turned back toward the wall. "Good grip on that trowel today, kiddo. Second knuckle."
He disappeared through the east fence gap.
I stood in the doorway of the shed for a moment.
The compound was quiet. The tools were away. Somewhere behind me the old elder was probably finishing his rounds. Feng Zian had gone home to think about his life choices. Little Carp had been redirected successfully and was probably filing her compound report back at the settlement.
I looked at my hand.
Second knuckle. Slightly.
I had no idea how that was different from what I'd been doing before.
I had a feeling I was going to find out.
Normal morning, I thought.
Getting more interesting.