The main courtyard of the Silver Forest Peak was both where they received guests and where they had morning and evening classes. Simple in design and structure, it seemed so natural as to blend with its surroundings, the flat-topped pine trees that grew around it providing shade. In the distance, muted sounds of people running in tandem grew ever more faint— it was time for the outer disciples to have their morning run, before they continued on with learning their stances.

Meanwhile, the close-by chaos of three direct disciples running around and smacking into walls only grew ever louder.

“What are you two even doing?” Ji Hualiu scolded, eyebrows furrowed. Shen Jing looked up and was— was a bit dazed, because uh. Oh. She was really pretty, with an elegant bearing even though she was no more than 17 and scolding them. And also carrying a tray of bamboo steamers. “And dragging Xiao-shidi along with your shenanigans, too. I can see he did all the work. Help him dry up, before Da-shi—”

“Before I…?”

A low, but firm voice— they all turned to the sound, and then—

“Da-shixiong?”

“You’re back!”

Shen Jing stared, wide-eyed, mute.

Xuan Lang was 19, the same age as Shen Jing (not in this body!), but the difference, they might as well be talking about different species. This current body of Shen Jing was of himself, but 5 years younger; he was small, timid, and wide-eyed, a bit like a particularly terrified mouse hiding in a kitchen cupboard. Xuan Lang, on the other hand, was tall and sturdy as an evergreen tree, with eyes as sharp as a wolf's and carrying a hint of that cold winter color. His facial features made him look serious, but there was a kind light in his eyes, or perhaps a happy one— under his sweeping gaze Shen Jing couldn’t help but avert his face, but he always strayed back to steal another glance.

Like any other protagonist, he looked self-indulgently handsome, with a well-proportioned body and soft-looking hair. But more striking to Shen Jing was the fact that though he was— well… he was a prodigy and could've been anyone he wanted to be, the way his mouth twitched while looking at Fang Xiaoxiao and He Jiangshan exposed how genuinely happy he was to see them again.

It was a look that Shen Jing sometimes wished was ever directed to him, but seeing it aimed at someone else was heartwarming too— despite the power-based hierarchy of a world such as this, home and loving families fond of each other wasn't both the joke and the punchline.

Given the length of his trip, Xuan Lang had to resort to clothes other than his few pairs of sect uniforms. But dark blue looked good on him. He looked handsome, heroic, reliable.

"And this xiao-shidi is…?" Xuan Lang looked half apologetic. "I'm sorry. It has been so long, and I've only met you once."

The meeting was on the day he left with his shizun, too, for less than 5 minutes; that was the origin story Shen Jing and Assistant 51C came up with. Bai Nian accidentally saw him, took him in as a direct disciple, then left with Xuan Lang in the span of one morning. He and 51-jie hadn't even come up with a reason why.

"It's okay," Shen Jing murmured. His gaze darted around, and spotted the grass behind Xuan Lang. They had tiny wildflowers, or maybe it was some kind of weed. "It was months ago. My name is Shen Jing. Please take good care of me."

Shen Jing wished a worm the size of an elevator shaft would bust through the ground and eat him. Who was he even, to say this to the protagonist… He already had a family, namely his three younger martial siblings. Shen Jing really chose the wrong identity. Could he change it?

<Yeah, though I'd say stick this one out for a bit. You should at least give it an honest try.>

...He just felt guilty. He had no place here.

"Xiao-shidi spaces off every now and then, but he's hardworking and diligent," Fang Xiaoxiao reassured, patting Shen Jing's shoulder. "If Da-shixiong has a map, though, maybe it might let us fetch him from wherever it is he's gone."

Fire crackled under his skin, spreading from his cheeks— mortified, Shen Jing lowered his head, taking a step back.

"...Don't bully him," Xuan Lang sighed. "Let's go inside."

"N-no, Fourth Shijie didn't bully me…" The teasing embarrassed him, but it wasn’t Fang Xiaoxiao’s fault. He just had… problems. No one was at fault. It was Shen Jing who had an illness.

<Social anxiety?>

"I always feel guilty for being there."

<Oof. Let me know if you need a counselor. We cover mental health in the insurance plan.>

"'Sokay. I just really need to get out of here."

"Xiao-shidi, your hands are so cold and clammy," Fang Xiaoxiao said, astonished. "What even happened? Was it because I teased you?"

"It happens sometimes," Shen Jing mumbled. When a feeble attempt to tug his hand away from the grip of the later sword-prodigy Fang Xiaoxiao didn't work, he let her rub and mush her hands all over his. "Fourth Shijie, let's go…"

"Go," Xuan Lang said. It only took a look, but Fang Xiaoxiao and He Jiangshan rushed ahead, leaving Shen Jing behind with him. Then, after an awkward silence, Shen Jing scurried forward, only to pause at Xuan Lang's voice, low and unheard by anyone else. "Are you scared of me?"

Shen Jing shook his head so hard his topknot smacked against the sides of his skull. "No! Never. I'm just… really nervous, I'm so sorry. I'll do better."

Terrified, maybe, but never at Xuan Lang. After all, Shen Jing really felt he understood his character and his thoughts, having read and reread so many times— he was hardly an unreasonable man, even when angry. Anyway, if Xuan Lang was a bit harsh later on in the story, Shen Jing would understand too. Stress could get to anyone. Shen Jing had been really stressed these past few months, so he empathized with any outbursts anyone might have.

Another silence, then a feather-light touch on his upper back. "Let's go, before the food gets cold."

 

___

 

It being mid-morning, only Xuan Lang was eating a full meal— the others poked the cages of dimsum, with Ji Hualiu drinking tea and accepting the occasional snack offered to her by Fang Xiaoxiao. Shen Jing munched on the small baozi, too, trying not to stare at Xuan Lang by way of staring at his tea instead. The tea was light in shade, its taste crisp, with a somewhat sharp and dry aftertaste. Really satisfying, though Shen Jing liked the ones with the sweet aftertaste more.

<Green teas taste different? Not gonna lie, I drink them a bunch, but I don’t really notice that kinda stuff.>

“It’s subtle, that’s true. But some of them have pretty noticeable taste.”

<Huh. I’ll take your word for it, then.>

“Xiao-shidi, eat more ba,” He Jiangshan said, clipping over some dumplings for him. “You’re so small, you won’t even need qinggong to run around.”

Fang Xiaoxiao joined him, this time placing twisted fried doughs and soymilk in front of his plate. “Quick, before Shizun notices.”

Shen Jing, “......” Does Shizun not like his disciples eating a lot?

“He won’t think we starved Xiao-shidi, the two of you knock it off,” Ji Hualiu said. Her voice was authoritative, carrying across the area even though it hadn't gone louder than a casual conversation. “You’re making him uncomfortable.”

She’s really cool, Shen Jing thought. She had a calm but firm aura to her, it made him think of his aunt, who was a career woman who continued to support her sister, his mother, despite everything. Shen Jing lived with her for five years. The difference might be that Ji Hualiu was a cultivator, and his aunt not— okay, that was a stupid train of thought, of course his aunt wasn’t a cultivator. But the different upbringings gave them different bearings, and while his aunt exuded a confident and focused air, Ji Hualiu was more graceful, her movements flowing and purposeful.

Out of them all, Shen Jing was the least familiar with Ji Hualiu. It wasn’t because she didn’t have a well-established character. She had a lot of on-screen appearances early on, being Xuan Lang’s love interest, but it got kind of awkward how much Shen Jing found himself understanding her actions in terms of what his aunt or mother would do, so there might’ve been a little… unwillingness, he supposed.

“Xiao-shidi,” He Jiangshan sing-songed. “Hey, come on, stay with us. Don’t you have questions to ask Da-shixiong?”

Shen Jing glanced at Xuan Lang, then froze. Oh no, they made eye-contact, he couldn’t get out of this. Xuan Lang, for his part, was done with breakfast and was sipping the tea quickly, chugging back some soymilk afterwards. Staring back at Shen Jing, he raised his eyebrow, just this subtlest little gesture.

“O-oh. Did you… Did you eat well and on time?”

Silence.

Oh no, that was weird, wasn’t it? Shen Jing often asked that of his mother, given that he had no idea what else to ask during the years she was on her residency. Yes, Shen Jing’s mother, Shen Wenzhu, was a doctor. Unbelievably busy, Shen Jing didn’t like to ask her how her day went, given how bad some of them got, so he turned to asking her if she was okay instead.

She always gave him this dim but sincere smile, telling him that she still liked his cooking better.

“I ate just fine,” Xuan Lang answered, a small smile on his face. “Not as well as at home, of course. We stayed mostly in remote areas.”

Shen Jing let out a relieved sigh inside. At least he wasn’t misunderstood...

“What was Shizun looking for?” Fang Xiaoxiao asked, curious. “Can you even tell us what?”

Xuan Lang thought about it. “Several things. One was Fallen Star metal. The other was Mushen’s white tree.”

Fallen Star metal was, of course, the remnants of an asteroid. Or was it meteorite? Shen Jing wasn’t a big space guy. But its metal was what Bai Nian was intending to reforge his legendary Qianguang with. It always struck Shen Jing odd that Qianguang was what he was remembered by and yet the sword was, well, in need of repairs, but then later on it was revealed that it broke during a confrontation with an old demonic faction nemesis… Bai Nian got too little spotlight, Shen Jing felt, during the first arc of the story. By the time the second arc rolled around, the matters of the Mount Song Sect era were all but buried with its rubbles.

Mushen’s white tree… Wait, what? When did Bai Nian need Mushen’s white tree? The wood god’s birch was a divine tree that grew in the most impossible of places, a symbol of defiance of life in the face of certain death. It being so, its growth was linked with Mushen themselves, and thus they all held incredible powers. Still, unless he wanted to make the world’s most powerful wooden sword, there was no reason for Bai Nian to need it?

“How about all of you? Training well, haven’t you?”

Shen Jing blinked as Fang Xiaoxiao and He Jiangshan hurried to reassure Xuan Lang about theirs— oh, shoot, he didn’t think about that?

<It’s fine. You’re doing fine, diligently training, you’re in early-stage Qi Condensation now, not that far behind Fang Xiaoxiao. Except you haven’t received direct guidance from your shizun, so your progress is also slower.>

Oh, thank you, 51-jie. He couldn’t even think of the stages off the top of his head, this saved him.

“I’m… practicing,” Shen Jing said. “Just…”

“You haven’t gotten directions from Shizun, I know,” Xuan Lang said. Pushing himself up, he nodded at everyone to stand, too. “Let’s go to the courtyard. Let me see how much you’ve progressed in the past year.”

And so they all moved on to the inner courtyard, where there was enough space to practice. Unlike the front one where they would eat, this one was bare, no rockeries or small trees placed for fengshui. Now that the sun was slipping higher to the sky, they could hear the sounds of helpers going around doing chores and preparing for their lunch— Shen Jing's eyes strayed to the sides, where a middle aged man was walking back to the kitchens, a tall stack of dimsum cages in his hands, obscuring his vision. Their late breakfast feast.

"Xiao-shidi."

Shen Jing jumped. "Y-yes! Sorry!"

Xuan Lang gave a tiny shake of a head, then gestured him forward. “You should’ve paid attention to when your shijie and shixiong were up, they had insights you could’ve learnt from. Come here.”

Feeling ice grip his heart, Shen Jing shuffled forward. Once he was close enough, Xuan Lang only placed his hand on Shen Jing’s head and closed his eyes. Silence. Outside the compound, someone was sweeping the ground, the sound dry and grating.

“You’re progressing well,” Xuan Lang said, opening his eyes. “But you have a lot of worries. You’re too young to have this many. If you carry it for too long, it might become internal demons and lead you down to Qi deviation. Otherwise, you’re doing well.”

Shen Jing lowered his head. “Thank you for the guidance, Da-shixiong.”

To the side, Ji Hualiu had been studying Xuan Lang for a while. Head tilted and eyes slightly narrowed, she asked, “Da-shixiong, have you… broken through…?”