The house smelled different by midday.
Cleaner.
But not clean enough.
Liú Tiānyuè stood in the courtyard, examining the cracked water jar and the shallow basin the family used for washing.
Insufficient.
Seven children could not be properly cleaned in that.
Not thoroughly.
Not efficiently.
She stepped behind the kitchen wall where no one could see.
The air rippled.
A moment later—
A large wooden tub appeared in the courtyard.
Solid oak.
Iron-banded.
Deep enough for an adult to sit comfortably.
It looked old—but sturdy.
Medieval in style.
It did not belong in this village.
But it did not look impossible either.
Just… rare.
Dàfēng, seated under the eaves, froze.
He had been watching the courtyard.
The tub had not been there.
And then it was.
His eyes sharpened.
He looked at Tiānyuè.
She did not explain.
She simply began filling buckets with heated water.
He said nothing.
But he did not look away.
*****************************
Steam rose slowly from the tub once it was filled halfway.
Before stepping back, Tiānyuè lifted her fingers slightly.
A single drop of spiritual water fell into the bath.
It dissolved without sound.
The steam shifted—cleaner somehow.
The water would:
Soothe irritated skin
Kill surface parasites
Accelerate healing of sores
Strengthen weakened bodies
Not dramatically.
Gradually.
Enough to repair what months of neglect had damaged.
She turned toward the doorway.
"Line up."
The children stared at the tub like it was treasure.
Zhào Mínghào blinked.
"Is… is that ours?"
"Yes."
No elaboration.
The toddler clapped.
The twins exchanged wide-eyed looks.
Dàfēng watched silently.
Still saying nothing.
*****************************
Tiānyuè placed several items neatly beside the tub.
Small clay bottles.
Combs.
Cloths.
Bars of soap.
Things no rural family should possess in such quantity.
Lice-killing shampoo.
Unscented cleansing wash.
Conditioner.
Fine-tooth combs.
Simple wooden brushes.
Basic toiletries.
Nothing ornate.
Nothing perfumed.
Practical.
Necessary.
The two eldest boys stepped forward first.
"You will wash yourselves," she instructed calmly.
She handed them soap and shampoo.
"And then assist with the younger ones."
Zhào Mínghào nodded immediately.
Responsibility came naturally to him.
The twins followed next.
They washed their own hair carefully under her instruction.
When she applied the lice shampoo, the children winced slightly.
"It will sting."
They endured it without complaint.
After rinsing, she handed them fine-tooth combs.
Lice fell into the basin.
Dead.
The twins looked horrified.
Tiānyuè's voice remained even.
"This will not happen again."
It was not comfort.
It was a promise.
*****************************
The younger children were more hesitant.
Zhào Míngjié cried briefly when the water touched his skin.
Too warm.
Too unfamiliar.
Tiānyuè adjusted it immediately.
The spiritual water softened the sting of old scratches.
Inflamed patches began calming even as they soaked.
The two eldest boys, now clean and wearing temporary cloth wraps, helped lift their younger brothers into the tub.
The twins poured water gently over small heads.
Under Tiānyuè's guidance, they scrubbed carefully.
No rough movements.
No wasted water.
The courtyard filled with steam and cautious laughter.
It had likely been months since the children had been thoroughly bathed.
Dirt clouded the water.
It was replaced twice.
Dàfēng's expression grew increasingly complex.
Where was she getting the soap?
The combs?
The extra cloth?
The tub?
He watched her hands.
They never fumbled.
Never hesitated.
She moved like someone accustomed to command.
*****************************
The baby was last.
Tiānyuè did not place Míngyuán in the large tub.
Instead, she stepped briefly behind the wall again.
When she returned—
She carried a smaller wooden bathing basin.
Smooth-edged.
Perfectly sized for an infant.
Dàfēng's jaw tightened slightly.
Again—
He said nothing.
Tiānyuè filled it with warm water separately.
No more than ankle-deep.
She tested the temperature.
Then undressed the baby carefully.
Míngyuán's limbs were thin.
But after the morning's feeding, her eyes were slightly brighter.
Encouraging.
Tiānyuè used a mild baby soap.
Specialized.
Gentle.
She washed the infant slowly.
Supporting the neck.
Cleaning each tiny finger.
Each fragile fold of skin.
The spiritual water already in the bath seeped lightly into the baby's pores.
Encouraging circulation.
Strengthening bone marrow.
Stimulating growth.
Míngyuán did not cry.
She stared at Tiānyuè with quiet focus.
As if memorizing her.
When the bath finished, Tiānyuè wrapped her in a thick towel—
Soft.
Warm.
Far superior to anything they owned.
Dàfēng noticed that too.
His gaze sharpened further.
*****************************
Once the children were dry, Tiānyuè distributed clothing.
Simple village-style garments.
Long tunics.
Layered trousers.
Cotton-padded jackets.
Cloth shoes.
Nothing flashy.
Nothing that would draw suspicion.
But—
The stitching was tighter.
The material thicker.
The insulation far superior.
Winter would not bite through these.
The children touched the fabric in disbelief.
Zhào Míngxī whispered,
"It's warm…"
Zhào Mínghào's fingers tightened in the sleeve.
He looked at Tiānyuè differently now.
Not fear.
Not caution.
Something closer to respect.
Even the toddler spun in place, laughing.
For the first time, the courtyard looked like it belonged to a functioning family.
Clean children.
Proper clothes.
Order.
*****************************
Dàfēng bathed last.
He refused assistance.
Pride intact.
But when he lowered himself into the water, his shoulders relaxed visibly.
The spiritual water worked quietly on his damaged legs.
Not healing the bone completely.
But reducing inflammation.
Stimulating circulation.
Numbing chronic pain.
His expression shifted.
Surprised.
He hid it quickly.
When he finished, Tiānyuè handed him folded clothing.
Dark, simple, durable.
But well-made.
He ran a thumb over the fabric.
"This… is not village weave."
"No."
Silence stretched.
He dressed slowly.
The children—now clean and dressed—were nearly unrecognizable.
Color had returned faintly to their faces.
Hair lay smooth and untangled.
Skin no longer gray with grime.
Zhào Mínghào looked toward the gate.
"Can we go outside?"
Tiānyuè considered briefly.
"Yes. Stay within sight."
They ran out together.
Not far.
Just beyond the yard.
But their laughter carried back on the wind.
Light.
Unrestrained.
The toddler stumbled after them.
The twins chasing.
The older boys pretending not to smile.
The courtyard grew quiet.
Steam still curling upward.
Dàfēng remained seated.
Dressed.
Watching her.
No children between them now.
No distractions.
Only questions.
He leaned forward slightly.
"Wife."
It was the first time he had addressed her that way directly.
His gaze was steady.
"Where… are these things coming from?"
The air stilled.
Tiānyuè turned slowly to face him.
Her expression remained calm.
Measured.
Unreadable.
And for the first time—
She prepared to decide how much truth this man deserved.