I watched quietly as the surface of the well rippled beneath me, catching a distorted reflection of my pale face. The cold breeze nipped at my sleeves, but I barely noticed. My thoughts were elsewhere, deep within the silence of my mind, where Green resided.
"Green," I asked, my gaze still fixed on the water, "would it be possible to replace the well altogether?"
There was a low hum, almost like the vibration of a tuning fork settling in my skull. Green seemed to be checking something.
"The well is ultimately your property, Master," she finally replied, her tone calm and informative, "so yes, it is indeed possible to replace it."
She paused, as if assessing how best to explain it to me.
"However, you must understand, the well is a special kind of structure. It lies between the category of 'Tool' and 'Property.' That distinction matters."
I frowned slightly. "What does that mean, exactly?"
She paused for a moment, as if carefully choosing the right words to explain it to me.
"The well," Green began thoughtfully, "falls somewhere between the categories of 'Tool' and 'Property.'"
I raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate.
"Tools," she continued, "are items you can freely summon or store in the system. They're portable, flexible, and not bound by your current level. Think of things like farming equipment, seeds, or basic items you've crafted or obtained."
I nodded, understanding that part well enough.
"But 'Properties,' on the other hand, are fixed installations. They're bound to a location and can't be removed or relocated unless your system level reaches the required threshold."
Green's voice grew more instructional now, as if reading from a manual she had memorized long ago.
"Examples of properties include your gold reserves, the plot of land you've claimed through the system and placed into the space in the system, your level one house, and of course, the barn. Once set, they stay until you're powerful enough to modify or retrieve them."
She let that sink in before adding one final point.
"The well sits at the boundary between the two. It can be replaced—yes—but once you install a system well here, it becomes a property. Permanent, unless your future self is strong enough to manipulate it further."
I mulled over her explanation in silence. The decision to replace the well was no longer just a matter of convenience.
If that was the case, then there was nothing left to say. With a resolute nod, I gave Green the command inside my mind.
"Replace the well."
There was twinkle like a bell touched by wind in which could only be Green's laughter. She always seemed so happy to please.
The change was almost immediate.
The wind stirred, subtle at first, like a breath being drawn in by the land itself.
Then it shifted, swirling faintly around us as though the air had taken notice of my decision. A quiet hum vibrated beneath the soles of my feet, unnoticeable if I wasn't so keenly aware of my surroundings, and the very air shimmered faintly as the old, nearly dry well began to transform.
I caught the wide eyes of my brothers watching the scene unfold. Before they could say anything, I placed a finger to my lips and gave them a mischievous smile.
"Shhh, remember to keep your secret all right?" I whispered, a sparkle in my eyes.
My brothers nodded mutely. It was always so easy dealing with children, they were honest, pure in their awe, and believed wholeheartedly in wonder. For a moment, they stood frozen, as if afraid to speak and break the spell that was unfolding before them.
Behind me, the well began to change.
It started subtly, with the faintest tremor in the ground.
Then, brick by brick, the old well began to come apart, not as if it were collapsing, but as if invisible hands were carefully unstacking and rearranging it. The stones lifted themselves from their resting place, hovered for a breathless moment in the air, and then began to settle again in a new formation, cleaner, smoother, perfectly aligned. The moss-stained rim faded away, replaced by a polished stone lip that seemed to hum with life.
My brothers watched in stunned silence, their eyes wide with wonder. This was the same well they'd used all their lives, the same one they had hauled water from with aching arms to help our mother cook, clean, and simply survive. And now, right before their eyes, it was becoming something else. Something... magical.
I turned slightly and peeked at their faces. No fear. Just awe.
he old, cracked bricks were replaced one after another with smooth, polished stone, no chips, no moss, no signs of weathering.
A new rope appeared, thick and sturdy, threaded through a gleaming iron pulley that hadn't been there before. The bucket, once splintered and patched with twine, was now whole, carved from a single piece of dark wood that gleamed with oil and craftsmanship.
And then, slowly, water began to rise.
It was clearer than anything the boys had ever drawn before, sparkling, pure, like liquid glass.
It shimmered faintly in the light, as if kissed by moonlight even in the middle of the day. My brothers leaned closer, jaws slack, watching as the well, once nearly dry—was now full, alive, and brimming.
As the final brick settled into place with a soft thud, a brief silence blanketed us. Even the wind seemed to pause, as if paying respect to the strange, quiet miracle that had just occurred. My brothers stood frozen, their wide eyes reflecting the glimmer of the now full and pristine well.
It took them a moment to find their voices.
And it seemed like they never did find their voices again, at least not with words. Instead, their awe transformed into action. Without so much as a word, the three of them hurried toward the newly transformed well, their feet kicking up dust in their excitement.
Yaoting was the first to grab the rope, his hands fumbling slightly as he tested the new pulley system. Yubing leaned over the edge, trying to peek down into the dark depths, while Shanyuan steadied the bucket and began to lower it carefully.
The rope glided smoothly between his palms—too smooth, too perfect to belong to anything handmade in our little village. Yet none of them questioned it now. Their silence was reverent, broken only by the soft creaking of the pulley and the splash of the bucket hitting water.