Wei Chen had a rare free afternoon.
No training — Feng had called it a rest day after particularly brutal sparring. No temple — Elder Shen was traveling to the capital for sect business. No work — Liu's stall was closed for inventory.
So Wei Chen walked through the market, aimless for the first time in months.
The crowds moved around him with practiced ease. Merchants shouted prices. Children darted between stalls. The smell of cooking meat and fresh bread mixed with dust and sweat.
Normal. Ordinary. Wei Chen had almost forgotten what this felt like.
"Wei Chen!"
He turned. Lian Xiu waved from a vegetable stall, grinning.
She'd grown. Not dramatically — didn't at this age — but she looked older somehow. More solid. More present.
Wei Chen approached. "Lian Xiu."
"Wow. Formal." She handed a customer their purchase, counted coins with practiced efficiency. "You look terrible, by the way."
"Thanks."
"No, seriously." She studied him with those sharp eyes. "You're leaner. Harder. And those are training scars, aren't they?" She pointed at his forearm where Feng's fire whip had left faint marks.
Wei Chen pulled his sleeve down. "Combat training."
"With that Fire mage everyone talks about? Feng?"
"Yes."
"Brutal, I heard." Lian Xiu finished with her customer, then stepped out from behind the stall. "My shift's done. Walk with me?"
They moved through the market's back alleys, away from the main crowds. Lian Xiu led them to a quiet spot behind a closed warehouse — her usual refuge, apparently.
"So," she said, sitting on a crate. "Seven months since the ceremony. You've been busy."
"Very."
"Training at dawn. Temple in the morning. Merchant work in the afternoon." Lian Xiu ticked off on her fingers. "Plus that investment thing that lost you silver. Plus sparring with Yun Hao. Plus whatever else you're not mentioning."
Wei Chen blinked. "How do you know all that?"
"I pay attention. People talk. And..." She smiled slightly. "My skill's gotten better."
"[Sharp Mind]?"
"You remembered." Lian Xiu looked pleased. "Yeah. It's... stronger now. I can read people better. Not just emotions — intentions. What they're hiding. What they want."
She gestured at Wei Chen. "Like right now. You're exhausted but won't admit it. Proud of your progress but worried you're not moving fast enough. And you feel guilty about something."
Wei Chen stiffened. "Guilty?"
"Your parents gave you something expensive recently. A gift you don't think you deserve." Lian Xiu's eyes narrowed. "An enchanted item. Recovery magic, maybe? Something to help with exhaustion."
Wei Chen's hand moved instinctively to the cloak folded in his bag.
"How—"
"Your posture changed when I mentioned guilt. And you touched your bag." Lian Xiu shrugged. "Plus I saw your mother at market yesterday. She looked sad but proud. That's the look parents have when they sacrifice for their kids."
Wei Chen sat down heavily on another crate. "That's... impressive. And unsettling."
"Both, yeah." Lian Xiu grinned. "Turns out being poor and observant is a useful combination. My skill helps me avoid trouble. Spot good customers. Know when merchants are lying about prices."
"Elder Shen said skills can reach mastery levels. What level are you now?"
"Adept, I think? Maybe forty percent mastery?" Lian Xiu considered. "I can read most people if I focus. But it's exhausting. And I'm wrong sometimes — maybe one time in five."
"One in five is still eighty percent accurate."
"Math nerd." But Lian Xiu said it fondly. "What about you? How's the magic training?"
Wei Chen summarized — carefully, leaving out the worst parts. Feng's brutal methods. The constant pain. The way his body had adapted to functioning on minimal rest.
Lian Xiu listened without interrupting. When he finished, she was quiet for a moment.
"You're going to leave," she said finally. Not a question. A statement.
"What?"
"This town. Eventually. You're going to outgrow it." Lian Xiu's tone was matter-of-fact. "Yun Hao will leave for the capital's Water Academy. You'll leave for... wherever Darkness mages go. And I'll stay here, helping my mother sell vegetables."
"You don't know that."
"I do, though." Lian Xiu met his eyes. "I can read it in you. The ambition. The hunger. You're not going to stop at being the second-best mage in a small town. You want more."
Wei Chen couldn't deny it. She was right.
"Does that bother you?" he asked.
"No. Well, maybe a little." Lian Xiu smiled sadly. "But I'm not stupid. I know what my life is. What it'll be. I'm not a mage. I'm not going anywhere special. I'll probably marry some local farmer, have kids, help run the market stall."
"That's not nothing."
"It's not adventure either." She shrugged. "But that's fine. Not everyone needs to be special. Some of us just need to be... useful. Good at what we do."
Wei Chen thought about that. About different kinds of value. Different kinds of success.
"You're already useful," he said. "Your skill is rare. Valuable. There are merchants who'd pay for someone who can read customers that well."
"Maybe." Lian Xiu didn't sound convinced. "Or maybe I'll just be the vegetable girl who's oddly good at haggling."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while. The market noise was distant here, muffled by buildings.
"When you leave," Lian Xiu said eventually, "don't forget about the people who helped you get there."
"I won't."
"Promise?"
Wei Chen thought about everything she'd done. Finding him work. Introducing him to the right people. Standing by him when everyone else was afraid.
"I promise," Wei Chen said, meeting her eyes. "When I'm successful — when I have real money, real influence — I'll repay you properly. Not because I owe you. Because you chose to help when you didn't have to."
Lian Xiu's eyes went suspiciously bright. "That's a big promise."
"I keep my promises."
"I know you do. That's why it matters." She wiped her eyes roughly. "Don't make me cry, idiot. I have a reputation to maintain."
Wei Chen smiled. "Wouldn't want to damage the reputation of the girl who's oddly good at haggling."
"Exactly."
They left the alley and wandered back toward the main market. The sun was lower now, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. Vendors were beginning to pack up their stalls.
Wei Chen's hand found the single silver coin in his pocket. His last one. The remainder from Liu's bonus after paying Feng early.
He should save it. Should add it to his slowly rebuilding fund. Every copper mattered when you were calculating months until the next payment.
But.
They passed a sweet stall. The merchant — an old woman with kind eyes — was arranging the last of her honey cakes and candied fruits, preparing to close for the day.
Wei Chen had seen Lian Xiu look at this stall before. Dozens of times over the months. Always slowing her steps. Always looking. Never buying.
Because a honey cake cost fifteen copper. And fifteen copper was a meal. Or fabric for patching clothes. Or saved toward something necessary.
Luxuries weren't for people like them.
Except.
Wei Chen stopped.
"Wait here," he said.
Lian Xiu looked confused. "Why?"
"Just wait."
Wei Chen approached the sweet stall. The old woman smiled at him — one of the few merchants who didn't look nervous around the shadow mage boy.
"Young master. Looking for something?"
Wei Chen pointed at the honey cakes. Golden-brown, drizzled with honey that caught the late afternoon light. "Two of those. And..." He scanned the other offerings. "Four candied plums."
"That'll be sixty copper."
Wei Chen held out his silver coin. The old woman took it, counted out forty copper in change with practiced efficiency.
He pocketed the copper and took the small paper-wrapped bundle. It was warm in his hands.
When he turned back, Lian Xiu was watching him with an unreadable expression.
Wei Chen walked over and held out the bundle. "Here."
She stared at it. "What's this?"
"Food."
"I can see that. Why?"
Wei Chen shrugged, suddenly awkward. "Because you always look at the sweet stall but never buy anything. And because... I wanted to."
Lian Xiu took the bundle slowly, like it might vanish if she moved too fast. She unwrapped it carefully.
Two honey cakes. Four candied plums.
Her hands started shaking.
"Wei Chen, this is—" Her voice cracked. "This is a silver's worth of sweets."
"Ninety-two copper, actually. I got change."
"That's not the point!" Lian Xiu looked up at him, eyes bright with unshed tears. "This was your last silver. Your savings. You need this for — for everything. Training payments. Food. Your family."
"I know."
"Then why—"
"Because you're my friend." Wei Chen's voice was quiet. "And because you've helped me more than anyone except my parents. And because..." He gestured vaguely. "Because we're still children. And children should get to eat honey cakes sometimes."
A tear slipped down Lian Xiu's cheek. She wiped it away angrily. "I told you not to make me cry, you idiot."
"I'm not making you do anything. You're choosing to cry."
"Shut up." But she was smiling through the tears. She carefully selected one honey cake and one candied plum, then held the bundle back out. "We're sharing. I'm not eating all of this while you watch."
"That defeats the purpose of a gift."
"I don't care. Shut up and take one."
Wei Chen took a honey cake. It was still warm, sticky with honey, sweet enough to make his teeth ache.
They ate in silence, standing in the emptying market as the sun set and vendors closed their stalls around them.
The honey cake tasted better than anything Wei Chen could remember eating. Not because it was particularly exceptional — the old woman was a good baker but not a master — but because of the moment itself.
No training. No calculating. No thinking three steps ahead.
Just two children sharing something sweet in the fading light.
"This is really good," Lian Xiu said quietly.
"Yeah."
"Thank you." She looked at him, and her eyes were clear now. No more tears. Just warmth. "For remembering I'm more than useful. For treating me like... like I matter."
"You do matter."
"I know. But it's nice to be reminded." She carefully wrapped the remaining sweets. "I'm saving these. For bad days. When I need to remember that someone thought I was worth a silver coin."
Wei Chen wanted to say something profound. Something meaningful about friendship and worth and how he'd never forget her.
But words felt insufficient.
So he just nodded.
They parted ways as the market lanterns began to light. Lian Xiu returned to help her mother close the stall. Wei Chen walked home slowly, the taste of honey still on his tongue.
His pocket was lighter. Forty copper left instead of a full silver. His savings depleted again.
But somehow, he didn't regret it.
Because Lian Xiu was right about one thing: he would leave eventually. This town was too small for what he wanted to become.
But she was also right that he shouldn't forget the people who'd helped him. The ones without advantages, without magic, who'd given what they could anyway.
His parents. Lian Xiu. Even Merchant Liu, in his own calculated way.
They were investing in him. Believing in him. Supporting him.
And someday — maybe years from now, maybe longer — he'd repay that. Not because he owed them. But because they'd chosen to help when they didn't have to.
That mattered.
Wei Chen pulled the recovery cloak tighter against the evening chill. Tomorrow, training would resume. The brutal schedule would continue. The gap between him and Yun Hao would narrow further.
But today, for a few hours, he'd remembered what it felt like to be just a child. Talking with a friend. Sharing small kindnesses.
Spending his last silver on honey cakes instead of hoarding it like a miser.
It was nice.
He'd have to do it again sometime.
Before he left this place behind entirely.