The sun had barely touched the horizon when Achu stirred awake.For as long as she could remember — since the tender age of twelve — she had risen with the dawn.
The soft rustle of leaves outside her wooden hut and the faint crow of roosters were the only sounds that greeted her. The world here was quiet, peaceful… the kind of peace Achu had built with her own two hands.
In Anning Village, everyone called her the first and longest villager.And it was true — because this entire village existed only because of her.
She had cleared the forests herself, cut the trees, leveled the land, and marked every boundary. What once was wilderness had turned into a thriving home for dozens of families — her people.
But no one here knew who she really was.
Achu, the beloved daughter of the Emperor of Zhuang, had abandoned her palace life six years ago. Since then, she had lived as a peasant, working the soil and feeding mouths that weren't her own. Now eighteen, she was single, content, and far from interested in marriage — even though she already had children calling her "Mother."
"Ran! Get up! It's time for training~!"
Chen's loud voice shattered the morning calm.
"Ahhhhhh! Leave me alone!"
The two children bickered so fiercely that the quiet morning became a storm of noise — enough to wake the youngest member of their little family.
"Waaaaa… Waaaaa…"
Achu's eyes flew open as the sound of a baby's wail echoed through the hut. She sighed, rubbing her temples.
Great. The chaos begins.
Pang! Her fist gently — but firmly — landed on both Chen and Ran's heads.
"Why are you two so noisy so early in the morning? You woke Fei!"
The siblings winced, rubbing their heads.
"Go. Wash your faces, brush your teeth, and get ready for breakfast," Achu ordered, her tone calm but unyielding.
"Yes, Mom…"
"Oh my little bun, don't cry~ 😚😚😚"
Achu scooped up the wailing baby, rocking her gently. Despite her youth, she handled the infant with ease.
Fei was only fourteen months old — a plump, bright-eyed little girl with a habit of drooling all over her bib. Ran was ten, Chen twelve — both rescued from the slums two years ago.
As for Fei… her origins were a mystery.
One midnight, someone had knocked on Achu's door and left a newborn wrapped in an old linen cloth. No note. No name. Nothing.
Achu had taken her in without a second thought.
Now, eight months later, Fei's laughter filled the house like sunshine.
"Haa…" Fei finally stopped crying, babbling as she played with Achu's braid.
"Oh, you're so cuteeee," Achu said, kissing her cheeks until the little girl giggled.
"Oh right—Chen! Ran! I'm heading to the back of the mountain today," she said, tucking Fei back into her cradle. "Take care of your little sister. I'll be back late."
Both nodded as they stuffed their mouths with the pancakes Achu had made earlier.
"Mom, what if someone comes to find you?" Ran asked, licking syrup from her fingers.
"If it's urgent, tell them to come back later. You know what to do. And if there's a new villager, handle the paperwork." She looked at Chen. "You can manage that, right?"
"Of course, Mom."
Achu paused. She didn't remember when they had started calling her Mom, but hearing it always made her chest warm.
"Then I'll be going."
Before leaving, she waved her hand, weaving faint threads of light around the cradle.
"What's that, Mom?" Ran asked curiously.
"It's a soundproof barrier," Achu said, smiling mischievously. "I can't trust you two not to be noisy all day."
Ran and Chen exchanged sheepish grins.
"Mom, can I use the land beside the chicken barn?" Chen asked.
"Sure, but what for?"
"I want to raise fish. I'm going to dig a pond."
Achu chuckled. "Can you do it yourself?"
Chen nodded eagerly, grabbing his tools before dashing out.
"Bye, kids. Take care~ 😘"
And with a shimmer of light, Achu vanished — gone to the mountains.
By midday, the siblings were busy with their chores. The scent of flour and soil filled the air when suddenly — ding-ding! — a small bell rang from the front of the village office.
That bell was Achu's idea. She had asked the blacksmith to forge it for official matters. It wasn't just decoration — it was how the villagers could call her, no matter how far away she was.
As a cultivator, Achu's hearing was sharper than any ordinary person's. Even from the farthest rice field, she could hear that tiny bell ring clear as crystal.
And somewhere beyond the hills, Achu smiled faintly.
"Looks like someone needs me already."