The sky had turned fully blue by the time Yun Long finished laying out the drying racks in the yard. Rows of thin leaves — bitterroot, cloudgrass, and frost-vein fern — stretched like faded paint over bamboo mats. Madam Su stood nearby, fanning them gently with a broad leaf to keep flies away.
"Make sure none of them curl, Long'er," she reminded without looking at him. "If they dry too quickly, they'll lose the bitterness. And then your father's medicine will be too soft."
Yun Long nodded, crouching carefully to adjust the edge of the mat.
Their house wasn't large — two rooms and a kitchen, walls faded by sun and time. But the yard was neat, the roof well-patched, and the herb garden out back always green, even in the dry months. It was a peaceful place. Honest. Ordinary.
Yet, even in a place like Qinghe Town, peace was something that had to be tended to. Just like herbs — it could spoil when no one was watching.
Inside the house, Old Yun, the town's only healer, stirred a small pot over a coal stove. The steam rising from the porridge pot filled the kitchen with the earthy smell of millet and bone broth. A familiar scent.
"Long'er, come. Eat while it's hot," he called, not raising his head.
Yun Long set aside the fan and trotted in, his feet tapping softly across the wooden floor. His hands were still stained green with herb sap, and he wiped them on a cloth before sitting.
Old Yun ladled the porridge into a bowl. "Slow down. You've got time."
Yun Long nodded. He was never one to rush meals.
As he sipped quietly, Old Yun glanced at him. His expression didn't change — but his eyes lingered with love.
Madam Su entered and sat beside them. She wore that same half-smile she always had when watching Yun Long eat, as if memorizing something she wasn't ready to lose.
"Long'er," she said gently, "you're growing taller again."
Yun Long looked up, blinking. "Really?"
Old Yun gave a small grunt. "He's seven now. Grew a finger's length since spring. Time doesn't stop."
There was a silence after that — not heavy, but not empty either.
Just the sound of spoons scraping bowls and the wind brushing the eaves.
After a while, Old Yun finally spoke again.
"You'll be joining the other boys next season for the Stone-Stepping Day, won't you?"
Yun Long paused mid-bite not really understanding what it means.
Stone-Stepping Day.
Every five years, when the spring sun first touched the Three Steps Shrine, children who had turned seven were led to the old stone circle outside town. There, the village elders would test their balance, memory, breath — simple thing and ordinary with almost no significance, But it was a rite of passage of the town. A quiet moment that marked the difference between child and a coming of age ceremony.
"I will," Yun Long answered ignorantly.
Old Yun nodded once. "Good. Every road begins with a step."
He said nothing more. But Madam Su reached across the table and patted Yun Long's hand, her smile never wavering — though her eyes shimmered just a little, reflecting the flicker of the stove.
Outside, a breeze passed over the drying herbs.
Somewhere beyond the hills, crows cried and scattered into the pale sky.
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