"Go change into your disciple robes, Lian'er," Yan Zhenwu said gently, his voice warm as a quiet fire. "You'll want to look the part on your first day, even if you're not cultivating just yet."
Qin Lian, still cradling the soft weight of sleep in her limbs, nodded with a small yawn. "Yes, Grandpa."
He smiled, the lines in his face deepening like folds in worn silk. "You're one of us now. Might as well dress like it."
She turned back toward her courtyard, walking under the early morning sun. Light filtered through the spirit willow trees, casting pale green patterns on the stone. The wind was cool but not cold, scented faintly with sandalwood and dew. Somewhere, a bell chimed three notes in sequence—disciples beginning their dawn routines.
Back in her room, she slipped out of her sleeping robes and unfolded the set of pale green disciple garments from the wardrobe. The cloth shimmered faintly with spirit thread, soft as breath but light as air. It wrapped around her like it belonged, the loose sleeves brushing past her wrists, the waist secured with a jade-threaded sash.
She looked at herself in the mirror: wide-eyed, still a bit short for her age, with dark hair pulled back in a simple braid. A quiet flicker of pride bloomed in her chest. She looked… real. Like someone who belonged.
On the small bamboo shelf by the window, the grey rabbit—who had apparently named itself Yun by sheer refusal to answer to anything else—was munching on a curled red leaf with clear defiance.
Qin Lian gasped. "Hey! That's spirit herb, isn't it?, where did you get that?!"
Yun didn't even pause in chewing.
She scooped the rabbit up, holding it to her chest with a soft sigh. "I'm going to start training soon, you know. You'll have to behave."
Yun gave a small sneeze and buried its nose in her sleeve.
"You're hopeless," she muttered, but a smile tugged at her lips. With her robes now properly adjusted, and her tiny beast companion once again in her arms, she made her way back to her great-great-grandfather's courtyard.
The sun had climbed higher by the time she arrived. Yan Zhenwu was already waiting in the open-air pavilion, sipping tea beneath a blooming plum tree. He had changed into simpler robes today—still elegant, but less formal than the layered silks he wore to the Spirit Root Ceremony.
His gaze lifted as she approached.
"Much better," he said with a small, approving nod. "You look like a disciple already."
Qin Lian set Yun down and bowed slightly. "I feel a little nervous."
"That's good," he said, standing. "It means you care."
She followed him as he led her down the covered corridor. Birds chirped quietly above the roofline, and two white butterflies danced past the carved pillars.
After a few steps, he stopped and turned to face her directly.
"I want to speak to you seriously, Lian'er," he said, his voice dropping to that soft, patient tone she was starting to associate with deeper truths. "About your place here."
She blinked, then nodded. "Okay."
He folded his hands behind his back. "You'll begin your official cultivation once your qi sense awakens. But you are already my disciple in heart. As I mentioned awhile ago… I do not take direct disciples lightly."
Her eyes widened.
"I've only taken two in all my years as Peak Master," he continued. "One is a calm swordsman with a strong heart. The other is a hot-headed spear master. But you…" He paused, gaze resting on her gently. "You are my granddaughter. And I am not comfortable leaving your path to others."
"So." He smiled. "You will be officially my third direct disciple. When you reach Body Tempering Realm, I will formally accept you under my sword."
She nooded
He stepped forward and rested a hand lightly atop her head, ruffling her hair. "Now come, we still have things to do today."
They walked together again, this time heading toward the central pavilion. The morning sun slanted through the eaves, casting golden rays across the cobbled path. Birds sang softly in the trees, and the faint scent of sandalwood lingered in the breeze.
Since Yun Wen accompanied Qin Lian the entire time earlier that morning when she picked up her uniform and allowance, he knows she wasn't lost — and the tone should reflect that shared experience. Let's revise the scene properly with that continuity in mind:
⸻
As they stepped into the courtyard, a tall figure stood waiting beneath the boughs of a plum tree.
Yun Wen turned at their approach, his expression calm, sword sheathed neatly at his hip. He dipped his head slightly. "Master."
Yan Zhenwu gave a pleased nod. "Yun Wen. Good. You've already met my granddaughter, of course."
Qin Lian blinked, then grinned a little. "We met this morning."
Yun Wen gave her a glance, then nodded politely. "She followed directions well."
"I was literally right beside you the whole time," she said dryly.
A faint smirk tugged at Yun Wen's mouth. "Exactly."
Yan Zhenwu chuckled, clearly amused. "Ah, already bickering like true siblings. Very good."
He turned to Qin Lian with a warm smile. "Lian'er, Yun Wen is my eldest disciple. Reliable and level-headed, even if he speaks like a stone wall. If you ever need help on the peak—whether with your footing, your sword grip, or getting a stubborn rabbit out of the herb garden—he's someone you can trust."
Yun Wen inclined his head slightly. "It's an honor, junior sister."
Qin Lian blinked. "Junior sister?"
Yan Zhenwu placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Soon enough. When your cultivation officially begins, you'll be the third of my direct disciples."
Qin Lian's chest tightened a little—warmth blooming behind her ribs.
Yun Wen didn't comment, but his gaze softened ever so slightly, as if he understood exactly what that meant.
"Well," Yan Zhenwu said, stepping forward, "now that the introductions are done—again—we've still got work ahead. Lian'er, walk with me."
Qin Lian fell in step beside her grandfather, the sound of her soft slippers padding against the polished stone path echoing faintly in the quiet morning air. Behind them, Yun Wen lingered for a few moments before silently returning to his duties—his presence like the steady wind: there, even when unseen.
They passed through the bamboo-lined walkways that wove through Emerald Wind Peak, the air rich with the scent of fresh leaves and distant tea smoke. Disciples bowed respectfully as they passed, eyes flicking toward her with curiosity. A few lingered a little longer, whispering behind their sleeves.
Yan Zhenwu noticed but said nothing, though a faint amused tilt touched his lips.
"It will take some time," he said softly, "they'll probably curious about who my granddaughter is."
"I don't mind," she murmured. "I just want to learn."
"That," he said, "is the right heart to begin with."
They came to a quiet garden tucked near the north slope, where white pebbles ringed a small pool and golden carp drifted beneath the surface. In the center stood a flat stone, wide and smooth—clearly meant for meditation.
Yan Zhenwu walked to the center of the garden and turned to her.
"This will be your meditation spot. Come here at dawn starting tomorrow. Yun Wen or I will give you your breathing exercises then."
Qin Lian nodded, taking in the peacefulness of the space. Something about the gentle rustle of the wind through the tall grasses made her chest loosen.
"Lian'er," her grandfather said gently, drawing her eyes back to his, "your cultivation path won't be fast. Water roots are steady, not fierce. But they are deep. And enduring. That is your nature. You mustn't compare yourself to others."
She hesitated, then asked quietly, "Even if they're stronger?"
He gave her a long, warm look. "Especially then."
She smiled, just a little.
He reached out and tapped the tip of her nose with a knuckle. "And if any brat tries to rush you into duels before you're ready, you come tell your grandfather. I'll challenge their whole bloodline."
"Grandpa!" she laughed, shocked and delighted.
"Now then." His tone softened again, taking on that quiet gravity that only came in moments of transition. "Go for a short nap. Training start later. You will begin walking the path. Slowly. Carefully. With both feet on the earth."
Qin Lian nodded. "I will."
"And Lian'er?" He looked down at her, his gaze filled with that deep, endless patience. "I am proud of you. Not for your root. Not for your robes. But for walking forward."
She swallowed thickly, her heart full.
"I'll try my best," she said again, quietly.
"I know you will," he replied, ruffling her hair once more. "And remember—this mountain does not just belong to cultivators. It belongs to those who listen. So listen. To the wind. To your spirit. To the quiet between the sword strikes."
She didn't fully understand it yet. But she would.
And for the first time in her life, Qin Lian felt like she was standing at the very edge of something vast, something powerful, and utterly hers to shape.