Chen Yuan remained seated after the others had left, one arm resting along the side of the chair as Chen Ming shifted slightly on his lap. The child's attention wandered, his gaze drifting toward the tall windows where light slipped in through carved latticework.
Chen Yuan looked down at him. "You ran here with a purpose," he said. "What was it?"
Chen Ming straightened at once. "Martial arts."
Chen Yuan blinked, then laughed aloud. The sound filled the hall, easy and unrestrained. "Martial arts?" he said. "So that's what had you running like your feet were on fire."
Chen Ming grinned, caught between pride and excitement. "They were really strong," he said quickly. "They shouted together, and the ground made noise when they stepped."
Chen Yuan waved a hand. "And where did you see this?"
"At the academy," Chen Ming replied. He slipped down from the chair and planted his feet on the stone floor. His arms lifted, copying what he remembered. The movement wobbled almost immediately, his balance uneven, fists rising too high.
Chen Yuan watched, amused, until the child nearly tipped forward.
"Enough, enough," he said, reaching out to steady him. "If you keep that up, you'll fall before you ever learn to hit anyone."
Chen Ming laughed, rubbing his shoulder, then looked up expectantly.
"What you saw," Chen Yuan said, "was not just martial arts. It was cultivation."
Chen Ming frowned at the word. "Cultivation?"
"It is the process of changing the body," Chen Yuan replied. "It has realms. Each realm has levels. Breath, strength, endurance, blood, bone—each must be refined in order."
Chen Ming stared at him.
His brows drew together. "I don't understand."
Chen Yuan paused, then smiled. He leaned back slightly and lifted one hand. "Alright. Then think of it like this."
He held his fingers upright. "Cultivation is a ladder."
Chen Ming's eyes followed the motion.
"Each realm is a floor," Chen Yuan continued. "To reach one floor, you must climb nine steps. You can't skip them. If you try, you fall."
Chen Ming nodded at once.
"The first floor is called Body Reinforcement," Chen Yuan said. "With each step, the body grows stronger. Legs run longer. Arms hit harder. Bones don't break so easily when you fall."
Chen Ming looked down at his own arms. He clenched his fists and nodded, as if already testing them.
"And the next floor?" he asked.
Chen Yuan tapped his chest lightly. "That is Blood Refinement. The body stops tiring so quickly. Wounds heal faster. Strength doesn't leave all at once."
He smiled faintly. "This is where your father stands. 3rd step of the second floor"
Chen Ming stared at him. For a moment, he said nothing. Then his mouth opened.
"So… if I punch you…" he began, then stopped himself, eyes bright with the thought rather than the intent.
Chen Yuan laughed again, louder this time. "You'd hurt your hand," he said. "And I'd still be standing."
Chen Ming laughed with him, undeterred. "Then I'll climb really fast."
Chen Yuan shook his head. "Fast climbing leads to falling."
Chen Ming nodded solemnly for all of two seconds, then looked up again. "What about the next floor?"
Chen Yuan drew a breath—
The doors struck open.
Footsteps crossed the stone floor in quick, uneven strides. An elder of the Chen family entered the hall, his jaw tight, his expression already dark. He bowed only briefly, the motion stiff, then straightened at once. His gaze skipped past Chen Ming and fixed on Chen Yuan.
[Chen Family Elder, Chen Zhen]
"Family Head."
Chen Yuan's hand rested on his son's shoulder. "Go and play," he said. "Stay in the inner courtyard."
Chen Ming looked up at him, then at Elder Zhen. The man did not acknowledge him.
Chen Ming hesitated, then slid down from the chair. He walked toward the door, slower than before. At the threshold, he glanced back. His father was already looking elsewhere.
The doors closed.
Elder Zhen did not wait.
"This mine," he said, his voice rising at once, "should never have been spoken of outside this hall."
Chen Yuan leaned back slightly. "Lower your voice."
"Why?" Elder Zhen snapped. "So the whole town can hear later instead?"
He stepped forward. "The Chen family found it. We took the risk. We have the manpower to work it. And yet you speak of opening it to the entire village as if it were common land."
"And the town?" Chen Yuan asked.
"The town?" Elder Zhen let out a short, humorless laugh. "The town will take whatever you give and ask for more. You know this."
His voice rose again. "If we keep control, the profits will be steady. Our position will be secure. But if word spreads—if others hear—sects will notice. Officials will notice. Then tell me, what will trust do for us?"
Chen Yuan did not answer immediately. His gaze moved to the open window. Children's voices drifted in from the courtyard, bright and careless.
"Old Hao trusted us when we had nothing," he said. "Others did as well."
"And where will they be when someone stronger comes?" Elder Zhen demanded. "Trust does not protect a family. Strength does. Resources do."
Chen Yuan turned back to him. "Resources attract those stronger than us."
Elder Zhen's fists clenched at his sides. "Then you would rather weaken the family now than defend it later?"
"I would rather not be the one who breaks it from within," Chen Yuan replied.
Silence fell, heavy and tight.
Elder Zhen's voice rose again, sharp and strained. "Why won't you understand?" he said. "This is a spirit stone mine we are speaking of."
Chen Yuan did not look away. "I understand."
"Then why—"
"The decision has already been made," Chen Yuan said.
The words fell flat, without force, without heat.
Elder Zhen stared at him. His mouth opened, then closed. For a moment, it looked as if he might say something more. Instead, his expression twisted, frustration breaking through restraint.
He turned abruptly and strode from the hall, his steps striking hard against the stone.
The doors shut behind him.
The room was still.
Outside, the voices of children carried faintly from the courtyard, unchanged. Sunlight continued to move across the floor as it had before.
Chen Yuan remained where he was, his posture steady, his gaze fixed ahead.
***
The afternoon light slanted through the open windows, softened by hanging screens that stirred faintly with the breeze. The room was arranged simply. A low wooden table stood at its center, polished smooth by years of use. Cushions were set neatly around it. A narrow shelf against the wall held stacked bowls and a small teapot, its lid set slightly ajar.
The table was laid with porcelain dishes, pale and thin, each marked with faint blue patterns along the rim. Steamed rice sat in lacquered bowls. A plate of sliced vegetables glistened lightly with oil. Fish rested on a shallow dish, garnished with herbs, the steam rising slowly into the air.
Chen Yuan sat upright at the table, his movements measured as he ate. Across from him, Lin Shu held her bowl lightly in both hands, her posture relaxed. Chen Ming sat between them, legs tucked beneath him, lifting his chopsticks carefully as he watched the food with intent focus.
For a time, only the soft sounds of eating filled the room.
Chen Yuan's chopsticks slowed.
Lin Shu noticed the pause. She lowered her bowl slightly and looked at him. "What's troubling you?"
Chen Yuan drew a quiet breath. "You know about the mine we discovered recently."
She nodded once.
Chen Ming looked up from his bowl, his gaze shifting between them. He took another bite, chewing slowly, eyes fixed on his father.
"Elder Zhen is not satisfied with my decision," Chen Yuan said.
Lin Shu set her bowl down gently. "He would not be," she replied. "He can stand up to you because he is the only alchemist in the Chen family. Every pill shop we run answers to him."
Chen Ming's chopsticks paused midair. He looked at his mother, then back to his father, his brows knitting together as if trying to follow the words.
Chen Yuan shook his head slightly. "That is not why he speaks as he does."
Lin Shu studied him. "You don't think he's wrong?"
"I don't," Chen Yuan said. "He puts the family first. In that, he is not mistaken."
He lifted his bowl again, though he did not eat. "But if it were not for Qingshi town, the Chen family would never have reached this point. We drew people in. We relied on them. We grew together."
Chen Ming lowered his gaze to the table, listening, though the meaning slipped past him. He picked at a grain of rice with his chopsticks, then looked up again.
Lin Shu was quiet for a moment. Then she smiled faintly. "You've always been like this," she said. "You'll find a way to balance it."
She reached out and poured him tea, the liquid steaming gently as it filled the cup. "Don't worry too much. I'm sure you'll work it out with Elder Zhen."
Chen Yuan looked at her. The tension in his expression eased slightly. He accepted the cup and nodded.
"Let's hope so," he said.
Chen Ming glanced between them, then returned to his food, eating more quickly now, unaware of how closely the calm of the room was being held in place.
Chen Ming ate in silence for a while longer, his movements growing slower. After a few bites, he lowered his chopsticks and held them loosely between his fingers, his gaze settling on them with quiet focus. His brows drew together as if the thin pieces of wood were something to be figured out rather than used.
Lin Shu noticed first. She glanced at him, then at Chen Yuan.
Chen Yuan followed her gaze. "What are you thinking so seriously?" he asked.
Chen Ming lifted the chopsticks slightly and turned them in his hand. After a moment, he looked up.
"Father," he said, "after I reach the peak of martial arts…"
He paused, searching for the words.
"…won't my strength break these?"
He tapped the chopsticks together lightly, testing them.
"If that happens," he continued, earnest and puzzled, "how am I supposed to eat?"
For a breath, neither of them spoke.
Then Lin Shu turned her head away, laughter slipping out before she could stop it. Chen Yuan looked at her, then laughed as well, the sound low and unguarded.
Chen Ming blinked, startled by the reaction. He looked down at the chopsticks again, then back at them, his confusion deepening.
Chen Yuan reached out and ruffled his hair. "Then we'll find you stronger chopsticks," he said.
Chen Ming considered this, then nodded once, satisfied. He lifted his bowl and resumed eating, attention already drifting elsewhere.
The room settled again, filled with quiet sounds and fading laughter, the afternoon light still warm where it touched the table.