The walk to Mother's chambers was both shorter and longer than I expected.
Shorter because the compound wasn't actually that large—my room to hers was perhaps a hundred paces through covered corridors. Longer because every servant I passed stopped to stare, and several times I had to pause and rest against pillars while my body remembered how to handle sustained movement.
Liu Ruyan stayed close but not hovering, her presence a steady reassurance that if I collapsed, someone would catch me. We'd developed an unspoken communication—her subtle shifts in position told me when I was pushing too hard, my brief nods acknowledged her concerns without stopping my progress.
"The staring is getting worse," I observed as another young maid nearly walked into a support beam while her eyes tracked my movement.
"少主's recovery has made you more... present," Liu Ruyan said carefully. "Before, you were like a beautiful painting—something to look at from a distance. Now you move, speak, engage with the world. It makes the effect stronger."
"Effect?"
"The way people respond to your appearance. This one has heard servants describe it as seeing moonlight take human form, or winter given a face. The ethereal quality that made you seem near death now makes you seem..." She struggled for words. "Otherworldly. As if you belong to a realm beyond common understanding."
I processed this, remembering similar reactions in my old world to conventionally attractive people—the way others would defer to them, forgive them, help them without being asked. Beauty as social capital. But this seemed more intense, edging toward something almost mystical.
"Is it a problem?"
"It depends on how 少主 chooses to use it. Beauty can open doors or paint targets. Sometimes both simultaneously."
We reached Mother's chambers, and Liu Ruyan knocked gently before opening the door at the called invitation.
Mother's room was warm and filled with afternoon light, decorated simply but tastefully. She sat near the window working on embroidery—a hobby she'd maintained from her noble upbringing despite the clan's declining fortunes. When she looked up and saw me standing in the doorway, her face transformed with joy and relief.
"Hanxing," she said, setting aside her work and rising quickly. "You're walking. Liu Ruyan, help him to the chair—"
"I can make it, Mother," I said, though I accepted the chair gratefully once I reached it. My legs were already trembling from the walk.
She settled across from me, her hands reaching out to take mine. Her touch was gentle, cool, and I could feel the slight tremor in her fingers—anxiety that she tried to hide with maternal composure.
"You've been pushing yourself too hard," she said, her voice carrying both concern and reproach. "Collapsing after the forge demonstration, then again after facing that terrible man. Your father says you saved the clan, but what good is saving the clan if you destroy yourself in the process?"
It was the question Wenxuan had asked, the concern Liu Ruyan never quite voiced but always showed. The worry that I was trading my life for the family's survival.
"I'm getting stronger, Mother. Slowly, but the trend is improving."
"You collapsed three times in two weeks. That's not improvement, that's borrowed time." Her grip tightened slightly. "Hanxing, I need you to understand something. When you were born weak, when the physicians said you would not survive to see your fifth birthday, I made peace with the idea of losing you. It was terrible, but I accepted it as the will of heaven."
"Mother—"
"Let me finish. Then you survived five years, and ten, and fifteen. Each year a gift I never expected. And I learned to live with the constant fear that any day might be your last. But these past weeks, watching you wake from your fever changed and full of purpose, seeing you fight so hard to help this family..." Her voice broke slightly. "I realized I'd been preparing to lose the boy you were. I'm not prepared to lose the man you're becoming."
The raw emotion in her words hit harder than I expected. In my old life, I'd had parents, but they'd been distant—functional but not warm, providing but not nurturing. Mother's unconditional love was foreign territory.
"I'm trying to balance recovery with necessity," I said quietly. "The clan needs help now, not after I've spent months resting safely."
"The clan has survived for generations. It will survive whether you rest or not. But I will not survive losing another child."
The words 'another child' caught my attention. Tie Hanxing's memories stirred—a sister, older than me but younger than Liefeng. She'd died in childhood from illness. A loss that had devastated Mother and made her especially protective of me, the remaining weak child.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't mean to worry you. But Mother, I have to do this. Not just for the clan, but for myself. I've spent seventeen years being the burden everyone carried. If I can help, if I can contribute something meaningful—"
"You've never been a burden," she said firmly. "Why do you and your father both insist on seeing value only through contribution? You are my son. You have worth simply by existing, by being who you are. Whether you save the clan or spend your days resting in bed makes no difference to how much I love you."
I had to look away, her intensity too much to meet directly. That was the fundamental disconnect—I'd been raised in one world to measure worth through productivity, and she existed in another where family bonds transcended utility.
"I understand what you're saying," I managed. "But I can't stop trying to help. It's who I am now."
She sighed, recognizing the immovable object of determination. "Then promise me you'll be more careful. Rest when Liu Ruyan tells you to rest. Delegate what can be delegated. And if you must collapse from exhaustion, do it somewhere I can reach you quickly rather than frightening me with reports from others."
Despite the heavy conversation, I smiled. "I'll try to schedule my collapses more conveniently."
"Don't be flippant about this."
"I'm not. I promise to be more careful. To rest when I can, delegate when possible, and keep you informed of my health status." I squeezed her hands gently. "Is that acceptable?"
"It will have to be." She released my hands and sat back, composing herself. "Now, tell me truthfully—how are you feeling? Not what you tell your father or siblings to keep them from worrying, but the truth."
I considered lying, then decided against it. She'd see through it anyway.
"Weak. Tired. Like my body is constantly one step behind where I need it to be. The mind is willing but the flesh struggles to keep up. Using the..." I paused, uncertain how much to explain about the Memory Treasure Vault. "Using my abilities to access knowledge drains me in ways I don't fully understand. Each time I push too hard, I pay a price."
"Then perhaps you should push less hard."
"Perhaps. But the alternative is failing to save this family when I have the knowledge to do so. That price feels higher."
Mother was quiet for a long moment, her expression thoughtful. "Your father tells me you suggested building a second forge, re-engineering the mine, expanding our merchant relationships. Ambitious plans."
"Necessary plans. We need sustainable growth, not just temporary solutions."
"And who will oversee these plans while you recover? Because I'm going to insist—as your mother—that you spend at least another week resting before involving yourself in anything strenuous."
"Wenxuan can handle the planning details. Huiyue can manage the merchant relationships. Liefeng can oversee defensive preparations. I'll advise when needed, but they're all capable of executing without my constant oversight."
"You're learning to delegate. Good. That's a sign of wisdom." She picked up her embroidery again, her fingers moving with practiced ease. "There's another matter we should discuss. The household servants have been gossiping."
"About?"
"About you and Liu Ruyan. The amount of time she spends in your chambers. The way she looks at you when you're not watching. The way you look at her when you think no one notices."
Heat crept up my neck—an unfamiliar sensation in this body but apparently universal across lives. "Mother, Liu Ruyan is my attendant. It's her duty to care for me."
"Duty doesn't make a young woman blush when someone mentions your name. Nor does it explain why you've taken to defending her more vigorously than you defend yourself." She glanced up from her work with an knowing expression. "I'm not blind, Hanxing. Nor am I opposed. Liu Ruyan is a good girl—loyal, intelligent, kind. Under different circumstances..."
"Under different circumstances, she's still a servant and I'm a clan son. The social barriers are insurmountable."
"Are they? Your father was a third son of a declining clan when he married me, daughter of a minor noble house. Everyone said it was inappropriate—him reaching above his station, me marrying beneath mine. We married anyway." She set down her embroidery to look at me directly. "Social barriers exist, yes. But they're not nearly as solid as people pretend. Especially for those willing to weather disapproval."
"Even if that were possible, I'm still..." I gestured vaguely at my weak frame. "This. Not exactly ideal marriage material."
"You're the son who saved the clan from ruin. The strategic mind everyone is starting to recognize. And yes, still recovering from lifelong illness, but improving. Any young woman with sense would see those qualities as far more valuable than mere physical strength." She paused meaningfully. "As Liu Ruyan clearly does."
The conversation was veering into territory I wasn't prepared to navigate. In my old life, relationships had been theoretical—things other people had while I worked late hours and sacrificed social connections for career advancement that never materialized.
"I don't know what I feel," I admitted. "Or what's appropriate to feel. Everything is still so new—this body, this world, this family. Adding romantic complications seems unwise."
"Life rarely waits for wise timing. But I won't push. Just remember that happiness and duty aren't always in conflict. Sometimes they align." She picked up her embroidery again, signaling the topic was closed for now. "Now tell me about your plans for the mine re-engineering. Your father mentioned hiring outside expertise?"
We spent the next hour discussing clan business in more detail. Mother had a sharp mind for logistics that she'd never had the opportunity to fully utilize—her role had always been managing the household rather than the clan's operations. But as we talked, I realized she understood the interconnections between different aspects of clan life better than anyone.
"You should be involved in the planning discussions," I said. "Your insights about resource management and personnel dynamics would be valuable."
She looked surprised. "That's not traditionally a role for the clan lady."
"Since when have we been concerned with tradition? If Father can name a seventeen-year-old invalid as strategic advisor, surely you can join the planning councils."
A smile played at her lips. "Your father would have an apoplexy. He's very traditional about gender roles in clan leadership."
"Then we'll frame it as you advising me, and I'll present the ideas to Father. He gets the benefit of your thinking without his tradition being threatened."
"You're a devious boy."
"I prefer 'strategically flexible.'"
She laughed—a genuine, warm sound that made her look years younger. "Very well. I'll provide what input I can, and you can be my voice in the councils."
By the time I left Mother's chambers, my body was exhausted but my mind was energized. The walk back to my room took longer, with more frequent rest stops, but Liu Ruyan's presence made the journey feel less daunting.
"You and Mother had a good talk," she observed as we approached my chambers.
"How did you know?"
"少主 is smiling. You rarely smile after difficult conversations."
I hadn't realized I was smiling. "She wants me to rest more. Says I'm scaring her with my collapses."
"This one agrees with Lady Yalian."
"Of course you do. You two probably coordinate your worrying."
"We do," she said without any hint of shame. "Someone must counterbalance 少主's reckless determination to work himself to death."
We reached my chambers and she helped me to the bed. The simple act of lying down brought immediate relief—my body had been running on determination alone for the past hour.
"Liu Ruyan," I said as she adjusted the pillows behind me. "Mother mentioned that people have been gossiping. About us."
Her hands stilled for just a moment before continuing their work. "Servants always gossip. It is their nature."
"She said you look at me in ways that suggest... more than professional duty."
"Does that trouble 少主?"
I considered the question honestly. "I don't know. In my... previous life, I never had time for such things. Work consumed everything. But here, now, with you..." I trailed off, unsure how to finish.
She settled into her usual chair, her expression carefully neutral but her eyes betraying anxiety. "This one understands if 少主 wishes to assign a different attendant. If the gossip is uncomfortable—"
"No," I interrupted quickly. "That's not what I want. I just..." I struggled to find words. "I don't know what's appropriate. What's possible. What I should feel versus what I do feel."
"And what does 少主 feel?"
The question hung in the air between us. Outside, the afternoon sun was beginning its descent toward the western mountains. The forge hammer had stopped its rhythmic clanging—end of the work day. Somewhere in the compound, the household was preparing for evening meal.
"Safe," I said finally. "When you're near, I feel safe. Like whatever happens, someone is watching out for me. Not because they have to, but because they choose to. In both my lives, that's... new."
Liu Ruyan's expression softened, the careful neutrality melting into something warmer. "少主 makes this one feel valued. Not as a servant, but as a person whose thoughts and opinions matter. That is also new."
We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken implications settling around us.
"I don't know what this is," I admitted. "Or what it could become. But I know I don't want you to leave. Is that selfish?"
"Perhaps. But this one is equally selfish in wishing to stay." She smiled slightly. "So we are matched in our selfishness, at least."
"The social barriers—"
"Are problems for another day. Today, 少主 should rest. Tomorrow, we can worry about society's opinions."
It was practical, pragmatic, and very much Liu Ruyan. Don't borrow tomorrow's problems when today's are sufficient.
"Wake me for evening meal?" I asked, already feeling sleep pulling at me.
"This one will wake you. Rest now."
As consciousness faded, my last thought was that happiness and duty might align more often than I'd imagined. And that perhaps, in this strange second life, I might find things I'd missed in the first.
---
'MEMORY TREASURE VAULT'
'DAILY SEARCHES REMAINING: 1/3'
'INTEGRATION STATUS: 84% COMPLETE'
'PHYSICAL CONDITION: FATIGUED BUT STABLE'
'EMOTIONAL DEVELOPMENT: SIGNIFICANT PROGRESS'
'SOCIAL BONDS: STRENGTHENING'
'NOTE: USER DEMONSTRATING HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP DEVELOPMENT'
'ROMANTIC SUBPLOT: PROGRESSING NATURALLY'
---