Scroll 10; The Accidental Trigger
The sun was shining and its warm rays were crawling slowly over the broad courtyard of the Xie clan, over the cold stone, over the silk banners which were waving in the air. It was fresh air, the odour of the earth and the odour of jasmine in flower, but under this smooth surface there was a murmur of work: maids were rushing betwixt wooden carts with steaming bowls, midwives were talking to each other in low tones, and servants were clanking across flagstones with fresh bundles wrapped in linen. Here, the rite of post-birth was conducted, a rite that was both religious and disorderly, and had been handed down over generations, and this time it was all about the baby Xie Longyuan.
The maids and midwives were a very sly trade, and their fingers were little and quick. Then the purification ceremony: the soft linen, saturated with warm water taken out of the centuries-old well of the clan, which had supplied the house with water. The stone basin in which the water stood cooled it, and gave it a slight mineral and mossy smell. The baby lay in the cradling hands of the midwife, and the midwife dipped a cloth and wiped away the birth traces, and smoothed the wet locks of his fine black hair against his tender head. It was too cold to have shocked a weaker baby, but in this weakened condition Longyuan was twisting with some sort of strength, fingers working about the cloth like a miniature anchor. The maids were saying prayers, a hymn, and they would cleanse not only his body but his soul, and prepare him to carry the burden of the Xie name.
Then came the swaddling. Layers of fine silk soft but sturdy were wrapped carefully around him, binding his limbs in a cocoon of warmth. The fabric bore the clan's emblem: a twisting dragon circling the sun, embroidered in threads of gold and crimson that shimmered when caught by the sun's glow. The maids fussed, smoothing folds and adjusting ties, their eyes reflecting exhaustion mixed with pride. It was a birth worthy of the Xie lineage, after all.
Carried carefully through the wide doorway to the courtyard, Longyuan's new world expanded in an instant. Bright light flooded his senses, the vast sky stretching endlessly above, painted with strokes of white clouds drifting lazily. The scent of jasmine, earth, and distant incense mingled into a tapestry far richer than the sterile room he'd just left. The cool breeze teased the fine silk of his swaddling, and the sounds of bustling servants echoed against the courtyard's stone walls chirping birds, shouts from distant kitchens, clatter of horse hooves on gravel.
In the young wet nurse's arms, Longyuan stirred with a strange awareness beyond mere infancy. His tiny hand twitched, then reached out almost instinctively, brushing the nurse's warm chest with a slight touch.
A sharp, clear chime echoed silently in his mind:
[System: Task Complete — Villain of Destiny. Reward: +50 Affection Points.]
He froze, the world tilting slightly as a new sensation flooded his awareness. That innocent gesture, one that any newborn might repeat, had triggered something unseen an invisible tally somewhere deep within the hidden corners of his consciousness.
The wet nurse smiled softly, unaware of the invisible system's approval, humming a lullaby as she adjusted the baby's head gently on her shoulder.
Longyuan, now more curious than startled, tried again, reaching out his tiny fingers toward the softness of her garment, barely grazing the silk.
Another chime rang through his mind:
[Task Complete — Villain of Love. Reward: +50 Affection Points.]
It felt good, it was a rush, a warm body, something one had always imagined would be just right. The reality became clear and clear as crystal to his baby mind: this system paid off shamelessness and audacity in a fashion beyond his wildest dreams. The villain points were not mere ornaments that were useless, they were directly transformed into cultivation resources, precious energy that was required to reinforce his dantian and spirit base.
Said the wet nurse, you are a stouter little one than I have seen, little one, and rocked him to the tune of the bustle in the courtyard.
Little face of Longyuan showed no sign of the cogitations which were going on behind the scenes. His innocence cloak suited him. He had the facts, a silent strategist, who was already reckoning up the manoeuvres of insidiousness which he would use. His worst weapon is shamelessness.
At length the maids went back to their work, and the baby was put to bed in a clean cot in a little room off the courtyard. It was a plain, yet pleasant room, hung round with lanterns of paper, which threw a dim light over the lacquer-work of the furniture, carved in figures of dragons and phoenixes. No modernity to dispel the ancient spell; no suggestion of plumbing or light-switches-- only the natural circulation of air through the latticed windows and the merest suggestion of sandalwood on folded silk.
Longyuan kicked and out of his head. The tracks were deleted. The rattle of dishes in the kitchens was changed to the rustling of the leaves at the open window. He looked toward the earthenware basin in the corner, where still stood half full the clear well water in which he had been washed.
Memories of his past life swirled faintly in the back of his consciousness, hazy yet persistent. He recalled how water had always been essential for comfort how baths soothed the body, washing away fatigue and pain and how, in that world, plumbing had brought ease and order to such daily rituals. Here, in this ancient era, water came by bucket or basin, carried by the backs of laborers or drawn from the cool depths of the clan's well.
An idea sparked, bright and wild, like a seed dropped into fertile soil. If only he could invent a way to channel water directly into the household, through pipes carved from bamboo or copper, fed by the flowing rivers and wells. A system of valves and channels, clever enough to bring water where it was needed without the constant toil of manual hauling. Such innovation could transform life here, making even the lowliest servant's day easier and freeing time for cultivation and study.
A quiet chime cut through his thoughts:
[System Notification: You are not yet of age. Certain functions and upgrades remain locked. Upon reaching age threshold, you will receive Chatbot-L17 — a system model designed to assist in innovation and problem-solving.]
Longyuan blinked, the sound of the system's voice cold and mechanical amidst the warm wooden walls. He realized this world had its own strange mechanics, some hidden beyond even cultivation or spirit energy. A chatbot designed to aid innovation? The absurdity of the idea mingled with the tantalizing possibilities.
He let his mind wander, already plotting future improvements: storage jars with seals to keep herbs fresh, simple pulleys to lift heavy goods from the cellar, even crude machines powered by water flow. Innovations unheard of in this world could be born from a baby's curiosity.
Outside the window, the sun dipped lower, painting the courtyard in hues of orange and gold. Somewhere beyond the camphor trees, the distant sound of a hunting horn pierced the evening air, signaling the clan's patrols returning from the outskirts.
Longyuan's eyelids fluttered, the sensations of warmth, hope, and an unfamiliar sense of purpose weaving through his small, growing body. The ancient world awaited with its age-old traditions, but beneath the surface stirred the heartbeat of change and in the arms of his nurse, a child already destined to shake the foundations of the clan.
The soft whisper of the well water, the faint glow of the lantern light, and the quiet promise of innovation filled the room like a song yet unsung.