The morning after the brewing of the Sunless Tea came with a rare stillness. Lin Xun woke before dawn, not because of habit but because the air itself felt different.
He sat on the edge of his bed for a moment, hands resting loosely on his knees. His breathing was steady, his mind unusually clear. There was no tightness in his chest, no lingering heaviness from the walk to and from the Hollow Valley. The strength from the tea was still there… quiet, settled, as if waiting for him to call on it.
When he closed his eyes, he could sense it... faint lines of Qi running through his meridians with a smoother flow than before. It was not more power exactly, but a refinement, as though the rough edges of his energy had been sanded away.
In the kitchen, the brazier was still warm from last night. He set water to heat and prepared a simple breakfast. Shen Lan emerged from her room just as he was placing the bowls on the table. She moved with the same quiet precision as always, yet there was a looseness to her shoulders, a calm that had not been there yesterday.
"You feel it too," he said, handing her a bowl.
She nodded once. "It lingers." She sipped the broth without another word, but the faint curve at the corner of her mouth told him enough.
By the time the bell above the teahouse door chimed for the first customer, the sun had only just cleared the rooftops. Lin Xun stepped into the main room with a towel over his shoulder, expecting one of the regulars.
Instead, two strangers entered. Their robes were plain but well-made, the fabric clean though travel-worn. Both were young, perhaps not much older than him, and each carried a sword at their hip. They exchanged a quick glance before the taller of the two spoke.
"We heard this shop serves a tea unlike any other," the young man said. His voice was polite, but there was an undercurrent of expectation in it.
Lin Xun gestured toward an empty table. "We serve many teas. Which one you taste will depend on what you seek."
The shorter one leaned forward slightly. "The one from the Hollow Valley."
Shen Lan, who had been polishing a cup behind the counter, stilled her hand. Her gaze met Lin Xun's across the room, and in that moment they both understood... the swordsman from last night had already spoken.
"I am afraid that tea is not on the menu," Lin Xun said calmly. "It was brewed only once."
The taller one frowned. "We will pay well."
"It is not a question of payment," Lin Xun replied, his voice even. "The leaves are rare and dangerous to obtain. They are not for casual drinking."
The two exchanged another glance, this one sharper. After a moment, they sat back and ordered a pot of Golden Spring instead. They drank in silence, but their eyes roamed the shelves, the counter, even the small jars in the corner as though searching for something. When they finally left, the taller one placed a silver coin on the table... more than the cost of the tea, but the gesture did not feel like gratitude. It felt like a marker placed on a map.
The rest of the morning passed with a steady trickle of customers. Some were familiar faces, locals who had been coming since the teahouse reopened. Others were new, asking questions that seemed harmless but often circling back to the same point... what unusual teas had Lin Xun brewed lately.
By midday, the air in the shop was warm and fragrant with the scent of roasted leaves. Lin Xun was refilling cups when a shadow fell across the counter.
It belonged to a man in merchant's robes, broad in the shoulders and heavy in the step. His smile was quick, but his eyes were slow, calculating.
"You are Lin Xun, yes?" the merchant said.
"I am," Lin Xun replied, setting down the pot.
"I represent certain buyers in the southern district. We have an interest in rare teas, especially those with… unusual qualities." His gaze flicked toward the small jar sitting on the back shelf... the one that now held what remained of the Sunless leaves.
Lin Xun did not look away. "Most rare things are rare for a reason. Some because they are dangerous to find. Some because they are dangerous to use."
The merchant chuckled, though it sounded more like a throat being cleared. "Danger drives value. My buyers are prepared to pay in gold, not silver."
"The answer is still no," Lin Xun said, his tone unchanged.
The merchant's smile thinned. "You are new to this trade. There are rules. And there are people who do not take kindly to refusals."
Shen Lan stepped out from behind the counter then, her presence as quiet and sudden as a shadow. "And there are people who do not take kindly to threats."
The merchant's eyes lingered on her for a moment, then he turned back to Lin Xun. "Consider my offer. I will return in three days."
He left with the slow, measured gait of a man who believed the answer would change.
When the door closed, Shen Lan exhaled softly. "They will not stop."
Lin Xun looked down at the pot in his hands. The steam rose in curling ribbons, warm and harmless to anyone who did not understand what it carried. "Then we make sure they have no reason to come here for it."
She raised an eyebrow. "You mean to hide it?"
"For now," he said. "Until we know who else has heard of it."
The afternoon brought quieter customers... travelers stopping for rest, locals coming for their usual blends. Yet the unease lingered. Every time the door opened, Lin Xun found himself watching the newcomer a moment longer than before.
When the sun dipped low, he closed the shop early. The last light of day spilled across the wooden floor as he locked the door. Shen Lan was already in the kitchen, sharpening her blade.
"We may need to go back to the valley," she said without looking up.
Lin Xun paused in the doorway. "For more leaves?"
"For understanding," she replied. "A tea like that… its strength is not ordinary. If others brew it without care, it could be worse than any poison."
He knew she was right. The tea had strengthened them both, but it had done so gently. In the wrong hands, brewed too strongly or given to the wrong person, it could burn through their Qi instead of refining it.
He crossed the room and took the pouch from the high shelf. Only a small portion remained, enough for perhaps three more brews. He set it down on the table between them.
"We guard it," he said. "And we watch who comes looking."
Outside, the streets were quiet, but he could almost feel the threads of conversation winding through the city... whispers about a tea that could steady a cultivator's blade, that could carry them through a battle unshaken.
By nightfall, the steam from the day's last pot had faded, but the scent lingered. Somewhere beyond the closed shutters, those whispers were already growing louder.
---