Xuan Xi was, as usual, woken up by the familiar sunlight. She turned over, instinctively draping her arm over the pillow beside her, only to find it empty.
She opened her eyes and stared at the gray ceiling. The familiar border town, the familiar blacksmith shop, the familiar room—she, Xuan Xi, was back again.
She lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Early this morning, she had walked home from the teleportation station, and her adoptive father Hellas was still waiting at the door.
She gave him a rare hug, said the kind of things a father and daughter should say after reuniting, and then went upstairs to sleep. Her suitcase sat in the corner, still unopened.
The pillow wasn’t the down-filled one from the dormitory—it was homemade by her adoptive father, and lying on it produced a faint rustling sound.
She turned over, burying her face into the pillow. Though she couldn’t smell Sige’s scent, the smell of buckwheat husks made Xuan Xi feel unexpectedly comforted.
She flipped the pillow over, then back again. Though she was awake, she just wanted to laze in bed a little longer.
Footsteps came from outside—it was her adoptive father, Hellas. The wooden floorboards creaked under his weight.
“Xuan Xi?” A knock came at the door, very soft, as if he was afraid of disturbing her. “Are you awake? Breakfast is ready. Come down and eat.”
Xuan Xi sat up, her hair a tangled mess, with an unidentified trail of drool on her face. “I’m awake! Coming right now!”
“Then come down and eat. The porridge is ready—best eaten while hot.” The footsteps retreated.
She sat on the bed, not moving, waiting for her mind to boot up. The morning breeze lifted the curtain, revealing the blue sky outside the window.
She reached under the pillow and touched her treasured jade pendant. She lowered her head, kissed it, then climbed out of bed and headed to wash up first.
The kitchen was behind the blacksmith shop, a small room with cookware hanging on the walls that Hellas had forged himself from raw materials.
Two sets of bowls and chopsticks sat on the table. The bowls were the plain white porcelain ones you could buy anywhere on the street, with a few small chips along the edges, but they were washed clean.
The bowls held plain congee, cooked thick, the rice grains dissolved into the broth, giving off a faint, fragrant aroma.
At the center of the table sat a plate of the most common pickled vegetables in the countryside, sliced thin, tossed with sesame oil and vinegar, the aroma wafting through the air.
Xuan Xi sat down at the table, and Hellas came over from the stove.
He sat across from her, picked up his bowl of congee, blew on it, and took a big sip.
“Eat,” he said. “It won’t taste as good once it’s cold.”
Xuan Xi picked up her bowl of congee. It was scalding hot.
She stirred it with her spoon, then scooped up a mouthful and brought it to her lips.
Warm and soft, it traveled all the way from her throat to her stomach.
Hellas said nothing, quietly drinking his congee and occasionally eating some pickled vegetables.
His fingers were thick, his knuckles covered in calluses from years of forging, but when he picked up the congee bowl, his movements were gentle, as if afraid of crushing something. Xuan Xi finished her bowl and went to the pot to scoop another.
There was still over half left—Hellas always cooked a lot, worried she might not have enough.
“It’s good,” she said.
Hellas looked up. His gray-brown face showed no particular expression, but his eyes brightened slightly. “I’ll keep making it for you.”
“Mhm.”
After the meal, Xuan Xi stood up to clear the dishes. Hellas also stood, reaching for the bowls.
“I’ll wash them.” Xuan Xi carried the bowls away.
Hellas froze for a moment, standing in place. “Do you know how to wash them?”
Xuan Xi didn’t answer. She placed the bowls in the sink and turned on the faucet. Water gushed out, splashing against the bowls.
She extended her finger and lightly traced it through the stream. The temperature, flow rate, and direction of the water all became vividly clear to her perception.
She gave a gentle flick of her finger, and the water leaped up from the sink like a transparent fish, arcing through the air before landing on the surface of the bowls.
The water wrapped around the bowls, washing away the congee residue, the grease, and scouring every chipped edge.
The force of the water was just right—neither too strong nor too weak—rinsing the inside of the bowls, just like a dishwasher.
Hellas stood at the kitchen doorway, his gray-brown eyes widening slightly.
He watched the “water fish” swim through the air above the sink, washing the bowls, chopsticks, and plates spotless, then lining them up neatly and setting them back on the drying rack.
The fish dispersed, dissolving into countless tiny droplets that drifted down from the air, refracting a small rainbow in the morning light.
The kitchen fell silent for a moment.
Hellas stood at the door, his mouth slightly agape. “You… this is…” His voice came out a bit hoarse. “A water spell?”
“Mhm.” Xuan Xi turned off the faucet and shook the water droplets from her hands. “The water attribute I awakened during the assessment.”
Hellas made no further comment. He walked over, picked up a bowl from the drying rack, and turned it over to inspect it.
The bottom was spotless—even cleaner than when he washed it himself. “Did you learn this at the academy?” he asked.
“Sort of. I figured it out on my own.” Xuan Xi took the bowl from him and put it back in the cabinet.
“Well then, the dishes are your job from now on. I’m off to work.” Hellas said, turning and walking toward the blacksmith shop. After two steps, he stopped.
“Be careful not to break the bowls. Those chips on the edges are all from you as a kid.”
“I won’t, Dad!” Xuan Xi retorted, her face reddening.
“Mhm. That’s reassuring, then.” Hellas walked away, his footsteps lighter than usual—probably because he was in a good mood.
Xuan Xi stood in the kitchen, looking at the neatly arranged bowls on the drying rack.
Morning light streamed in through the window, landing on the clean white porcelain, casting a soft, warm glow.
She remembered a few things SigrdrÃfa had told her before the break—now that the five destiny marks had awakened, her perception range should have expanded.
She could find a quiet place later and test it out.
She walked to the door, changed her shoes, tied the laces, and pulled the door open.
“Dad, I’m going out for a walk. Just stretching my legs.”
From the blacksmith shop came the rhythmic clanging of a hammer striking iron, a steady ding-ding-dong.
Hellas’s voice filtered out from within, broken into fragments by the hammering. “Alright—go ahead—remember to come back—for lunch—”
“Okay!” Xuan Xi stepped out the door.
The shops along the street had opened—vegetable sellers, meat vendors, general goods stores. People were chatting on the roadside, others picking through produce. No one looked at her.
Perhaps no one remembered anymore that she was the abandoned child who’d been taken in. Xuan Xi walked along the cobblestone road, feeling inexplicably happy.
She extended her perception outward.
It expanded, from the cobblestone streets of the town, to the shops on either side, to the wheat fields in the distance, to the forests even farther beyond.
Spiritual qi flowed through the air, warm and gentle like water.
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.