Only after she lands does she notice the board properly. A mid-game Go layout… the carefully arranged stones.A game clearly in progress before the interruption.

General Jiang’s gaze shifts from the cat to her. His expression doesn’t reveal any anger. He iis merely assessing the young girl in front of him. 

“You climbed the wall?"

Her hands nervously twist her short jacket, “Yes,” 

The white-haired man opposite the Old General glances between them, then he reaches out and gently places a stone on the board as if nothing unusual is happening.

His eyes twinkle with amusement watching the cat and the nervous little girl. 

General Jiang exhales once through his nose, almost a laugh, but restrained.

Meanwhile, the cat bats at a Go stone with quiet determination.

Shen Ling steps forward quickly to grab Little White.

“Sorry. I’ll take it back”

“Leave it,” the old general interrupts lightly.

She stops. “Huh?”

He leans back slightly, studying her more directly now.

“It has already decided it belongs here.”

The white-haired man gives a faint nod.“Most things do, eventually.”

LingLing looks down at her cat.

It looks back at her, completely unbothered.

She lets out a small breath filled with frustration then lightly taps its pink nose.

“…Traitor,” she softly admonishes the arrogant little cat.

That earns her the first hint of real amusement from General Jiang., not directed at her, but at the situation itself.

“You are the one living next door?” 

“Yes.”

“And you frequently climb walls for your cat?”

“No,” she says, then pauses.knitting her delicate eyebrows together “…only when it misbehaves.”

That draws a quiet sound from the white-haired man,  like approval disguised as indifference.

General Jiang nods once, as if accepting this as valid information.

“Then retrieve it properly next time. Come to the front door and knock. I don’t like being disturbed unexpectedly. he says. “Or train it better.”

Shen Ling glances at the cat again.It has now curled up on the table knocking a Go stone between its paws with an expression like it owns the entire courtyard.

She sighs, then crouches and scoops it up.It doesn’t resist. Of course it doesn’t.

“I’ll try,” she says simply.

LingLing, cat in arms, turns back toward the wall.

“...” didn’t I just say don’t climb the wall?

“Go out the front gate.”

The two men return to their game as if nothing has truly been disturbed.

 The courtyard is still again and the game continues.

The cat remains perfectly calm in her arms, as if nothing dramatic has just happened.

“…You’re unbelievable,” she tells it flatly as a muscular guard opens the front gate and she heads back to the Shen manor.

The arrogant cat blinks twice at her. What did I do?

She shakes her head and continues walking, brushing a bit of dust from her sleeve.

Behind her, the neighboring courtyard returns to its steady silence, as if her brief intrusion has been folded neatly away and set aside.

The next morning, she doesn’t think much of the awkward situation yesterday. Life resumes its gentle rhythm…herbs, sunlight, slow walks along the stone paths. Her new comfortable life.

The manor servants are used to her wandering by now and pay her little attention, which suits her perfectly.

 The cat follows her again, of course, as if yesterday has taught it nothing about boundaries or dignity.

Shen Ling crouches to adjust the strap of a small woven basket when a familiar voice drifts faintly over the wall.

Not loud. Not intrusive. Just… present causing her to pause her footsteps.

General Jiang’s courtyard is active…subtly so.

The sound of measured movement, the faint clack of wooden training tools, the rustle of a staff being set aside.

She doesn’t go closer.She simply stands still for a moment, listening without intention.

Then turns away again to continue walking towards the forest.

Later that day, while helping the cook sort the vegetables that just arrived, the older woman glances at her with mild curiosity.

“You wander a lot,” she comments. LingLing doesn’t look up from the bundle in her hands. 

“Is that bad?”

 “No,” the cook says after a moment. “Just unusual for someone who came from the capital.” 

That made LingLing pause slightly. Then she shrugs. “I think I was always like this. I just didn’t have space for it before.” 

The cook grunts softly, approving in her own way, and returns to her work.

 Days passed like that. Quiet. Uneventful. And yet, for Shen Ling, something was beginning to shift, not outside her, but within the way she perceives her surroundings and life at the manor.

The manor is no longer a cage, the walls surrounding her no longer a barrier. 

Even the neighboring estate has become less of a mystery and more of a presence, like a mountain you knew was there but did not need to climb. 

One afternoon, she finds herself sitting on the garden steps, the cat curled beside her, watching the wind move through the bamboo. She speaks  aloud without thinking. “I thought freedom would feel like running away.” 

The cat flicks its ear. Shen Ling tilts her head back slightly, looking at the sky instead. “But maybe it’s just…” she searches for the right words, then settles on it quietly, “…staying where you can breathe.”

 A long pause follows, then she exhales, lighter than before. “That’s not so bad.”

LingLing spends the afternoon sitting in the shade of the courtyard steps, legs folded neatly beside her, a worn medical book resting open in her lap. The pages are thin with age, edges softened from handling.

 The book belonged to her aunt once, passed down quietly, like many things in her maternal family that were never spoken of directly. 

 She traces  a line of text with her finger, then glances toward the kitchen where the cook is working. The woman is coughing again. A dry, persistent sound she tries to hide behind busy hands. 

 Shen Ling closes the book while making a quiet decision. 

 By the time the sun had shifted lower in the sky, a small pot simmered over a controlled flame in the corner of the courtyard. 

 The scent rising from it was gentle but distinct…herbal, slightly bitter, with a grounding warmth beneath it.

  She works meticulously without ceremony…measured amounts… careful timing… no unnecessary flourish.

 The cook hovers nearby, initially protesting, then gradually giving up as the young girl ignores her objections with calm certainty.

 “I’m not ill,” the woman insists weakly. 

 “You’re coughing,” she replies simply while stirring the mixture. 

  As the brew continues to release its scent into the air, something subtle shifted beyond the wall. 

 In the neighboring estate, General Jiang is reviewing correspondence with the white-haired man from before when he pauses slightly.

  A faint herbal aroma drifts over the boundary, carried lightly through bamboo and stone. The old hermit across from him lifted his head slowly. “…That smell,” 

  “Do you recognize it?” 

 The hermit closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if recalling a memory…his beloved disciple. Then his brows tightened slightly. “Su…” he began, then stopped himself. A pause then  a sharper focus settled into his expression. “That is her unique medicine.” 

 General Jiang glances at him. “Whose?” 

The hermit opens his eyes again, his eyes clouded over with mist. His speech is fragmented “How could it be…she would never…Someone from the Shen household uses a preparation like that,” he said slowly. “Not widely taught. Very specific balance of bitter root and warming leaf.” 

 His fingers tap once against the table recalling Su Ning mentioning her niece. 

 “She is next door?” General Jiang’s expression remains neutral, but his attention had clearly shifted. 

 “No. Su Ning is dead.”

 “...”

 “Who is it then?”

  “The girl who arrived recently.” 

  The hermit went still for a moment. Then, almost unexpectedly, a faint crease forms between his brows. “I do not like the Shen family,” he said plainly. “But the girl is Su Ning’s blood relative.”

 He reaches for the Go stones again, but his attention has clearly not fully returned to the board. Across the wall, Shen Ling has no idea the Master she desperately wants to meet is the white haired man playing Go at the Old General’s estate.

  She simply stirs her medicine gently then checks the cook’s pulse with casual focus, and pours the cooled liquid into a small cup. “Drink.”

  The cook hesitates then gulps down the bitter decoction. Moments later, the coughing eases. The older woman blinks in surprise. “…That’s better,” she admits reluctantly.

 Shen Ling nods once, satisfied. “Good.” 

 She cleans the pot then sets it aside then returns to her book hiding the fact this was her first time actually making medicine. In the Marquis mansion, she had no way to obtain the necessary herbs so she could only study. But she was confident by following her aunt’s precise directions she would succeed.