On the third day after Qingshui woke, the little courtyard finally grew lively again.
"Don't be fooled by me looking like a zongzi—I've already got thirty percent of my combat power back!"
Lounging on the couch, Qingshui had one leg hooked over the other, a grass stem (who knows where she found it) in her mouth as she lazily peeled a hard-boiled egg.
"Don't move," Bi Hua said without looking up.
"I'm only moving my mouth."
Qingshui bit into the egg, then pointed at the stew on the table. "Can I have a little more of that? You added ginseng last night—today's tastes extra nourishing."
"Food therapy needs continuity," she added, perfectly self-righteous.
Bi Hua ignored her. Layne was already trotting off to ladle more soup.
Watching the boy dash about, Qingshui smirked. "And grab some steamed buns—I'm dunking!"
Since waking, she'd hovered between better and not-quite. She could sit up, take a few slow steps, even bask in the sun and gnaw a drumstick in the courtyard. But the moment she circulated qi, the palm-print on her back burned like fire; she'd bare her teeth and flop straight down again.
"That palm mark—feels like it smashed you to pulp inside," Bi Hua muttered, frowning at the mottled bruise as she changed dressings.
"It does hurt," Qingshui gritted out, "but it doesn't affect eating."
"The world is vast, but eating is vaster, is that it?" Bi Hua's tone was dry.
"Exactly." Qingshui nodded without shame. "This is called nourishing qi and blood—food therapy plus medicine, ever heard of it?"
Layne watched her eat with open envy. "I wish I could eat that much when I grow up."
"Premise," Qingshui said, giving him a meaningful look, "you master the 'Keep-Your-Life School' first, then get chopped once, palm-struck once, and almost not make it back."
Layne hunched his neck. "Uh… maybe not."
Fed and watered, Qingshui leaned against the headboard, cracking sugar-roasted chestnuts with crisp little snaps.
At last, Bi Hua sat beside her and asked evenly, "What exactly happened that day?"
Qingshui paused, bit another chestnut, and mumbled, "Mm… the mission went a bit sideways."
"Even you couldn't handle it?" Bi Hua's voice was cool.
"Of course not!"
Like a fox eager to prove its cleverness, Qingshui hurried to explain.
"They had numbers! Took turns pounding me—didn't even treat me like a woman! Uh… maybe not even like a person… How was I supposed to hold that?"
She gave a crooked smile, half playing dumb, half trying to explain. "It's not that I won't tell you… I really can't say too much."
Bi Hua didn't press. She simply set down a square of jujube cake Layne had bought and said softly, "You've helped us a great deal, and you said you won't harm us. But if the day comes you truly can't bear it, you can lean on us a little."
Qingshui blinked, said nothing, and stared at the sweet-smelling cake.
After a bit of sun, she sprawled by the window and refused to budge, cradling a small bamboo box—her travel writing kit.
"You're writing letters now?" Bi Hua emerged from the kitchen with a damp cloth and frowned to find her humming as she ground ink.
"Mm, a note I'm still alive," Qingshui said around the brush. "Otherwise the folks upstairs will think I'm dead and my hazard pay won't even get spent."
"'Upstairs'?"
"Mm—people I work with."
Bi Hua didn't pry. "Don't strain yourself. Your back isn't healed."
"I knooow. I'll lie back down after a bit." Qingshui pouted and bent to the page.
She wrote slowly, thinking as she went, every character carrying what she'd seen at Simu Village:
"…Temple-masking town-anchor appears intact, but earth-veins are severed and venting. Detected man-made guidance of qi outward; Earth Yao branch technique—Gathered Qi Rends Earth…"
"…Five enemies working in tight concert: one formation user, one blade fighter, one suspected Earth Yao fat man, one hunchbacked crone using uncanny dream-arts… leader a tall man…"
"…Villagers abnormal—like souls seized and bodies strung on wire…"
"Request inquiry into Earth Yao branch—suspected traitor within."
She hesitated, then added at the end:
"Injuries severe this time; lucky to keep my life. Loss of contact for days was unavoidable."
She sealed the letter, slipped it into the tube, whistled up the gray pigeon, patted its back, and sent it off. Watching the silver-feathered arc fade, she flopped back onto soft pillows.
"Come to think of it… that 'Keep-Your-Life School' I joked about—maybe I should actually specialize."
She yawned, prodded the wound on her back—
"Yow—hurts!"
Meanwhile, a hundred li away—Qingzhou City Lord's Manor.
A gray-clad agent knelt, presenting a messenger pigeon. Xuanhu took the strip from its ring; one glance and his brows knotted:
"Confirmation: 'Shui Li' severely injured. Lying low in Liuxiang, now awake and moving."
"Recent mass disappearances in Simu Village; Muyun authorities involved; Lìzhou troops unmoved."
"Traces of battle outside Simu—signs of Earth Yao branch."
His fingers tapped the desk as he stared at the Qingzhou map, silent for a long while.
"You lot so love stirring storms… How's that ghoul in Lìzhou still sitting tight…?"
"And Earth Yao, again? One county, three towns, nine villages in Lìzhou—is that not enough for you to ruin?"
He rose, hands clasped behind.
"Tell those fat pigs in the Qingzhou office to get up and work. Rouse the provincial defense."
"I'll be out for a few days. If Lìzhou's rats won't act, I'll till their dirt for them."
At sunset, smoke curled from the little courtyard's kitchen. Wind skimmed the wall; tree-shadows swayed across paper windows.
Qingshui finally stopped lazing on the bed. Limping, propping herself on a broom handle, she did a slow loop in the yard.
"What posture is that?" Bi Hua peered out, dubious.
"This is the curative gait of a grievously wounded warrior," Qingshui declared. "Didn't the doctor say to move a bit?"
"Doctor?" Bi Hua arched a brow. "When did you see a doctor?"
"Aren't you one? Divine Physician Bi Hua. Next time don't wrap me like a top half-mummy—my arms still work!"
She swung them twice, only to yank her face into a grimace as the wound twinged.
"…"
Bi Hua ignored the clowning and went back to the bone broth.
Grinning, Qingshui plopped onto the threshold and gazed toward the lane.
Layne came in wobbling under half a bucket of water. Seeing her upright, he ran over and squatted. "You're walking a little faster than yesterday!"
"I'll be flying a little tomorrow!" She patted his head.
"Fly now; prove it," he challenged.
"Hand over the snacks you hid in your room first," she said, deadly serious.
Dinner was abundant: two vegetables, one meat, and soup—Bi Hua's home-cooking at its best. Qingshui stared at the pot a long time, then couldn't help asking, "Is today a festival?"
"You remember festivals?" Bi Hua's tone was cool.
"No, it's just—your dishes are especially good today…"
"It's your seventh day post-injury," Layne grinned. "We can officially rule out last-spark 'returning light'!"
Qingshui blinked, then burst into a radiant grin, brandishing chopsticks as if to smack him.
"Hey, you little brat—already learning to tease your auntie!"
Layne raised his bowl in mock defense. "Don't move! You're our household's No. 1 invalid. I'll get you more soup…"
Watching him scamper back and forth, Qingshui drifted.
The kid really had grown—these few days of coma and waking, he'd shifted from little boy to a youth who could keep vigil, feel qi, and care for others.
She lowered her eyes to her bandaged hands, momentarily dazed.
"What is it?" Bi Hua caught the far-off look.
"…Nothing." Qingshui smiled, lifting her chopsticks. "I was thinking I might need to extend our teacher's contract a bit longer."
"Haven't you already been squatting here without leaving?" Bi Hua replied dryly.
Qingshui said nothing; her big eyes curved into crescents.
That night, the lamplight in the courtyard was warm, the wind soft, the little home still as ever. Half-dozing by the window, hair stirring in the breeze, Qingshui heard low laughter from the main room.
She thought a moment, then whispered:
"So this… is what home feels like."