Grandmother Liu's house was small and clean. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling beams. A cat sat on the best chair. The cat was old. It did not move when Shen Qing entered.
"Sit," she said. She poured tea.
The tea was terrible. Bitter, over-steeped, at least two seasons old. She poured it carefully, both hands on the pot, the way you pour something you value. Shen Qing drank it.
"You won't tell me what's under the well," she said.
"I don't know what's under the well. That's the truth."
"But you know something is."
"Yes."
She looked at his face. She looked at it for a while. Then she picked up her cup and drank.
She did not ask again.
The cat shifted on the chair. Grandmother Liu reached over and scratched it behind the ear without looking. The cat settled.
"How long have you lived here?" Shen Qing asked.
"Seventy years. My mother was born here. Her mother was born here." She set her cup down. "The village has been here longer than your sect."
He didn't argue with that. He didn't know if it was true. He suspected it might be.
---
Uncle Bao was at the blacksmith's.
He was telling the fish story. Shen Qing had heard it the night before, at dinner. At dinner the fish had been forearm-length.
"Big as a dog," Uncle Bao said now. He held his hands apart. "I swear on my mother's grave."
The blacksmith kept working. He had heard this story before.
Shen Qing sat on the bench outside and listened. By the time Uncle Bao finished, the fish had grown again. The blacksmith asked how he'd landed it. Uncle Bao said he used a net made from his wife's old dress.
"Last time you said you used your hands," the blacksmith said.
"That was a different fish."
Nobody corrected him. Nobody minded. A woman passing with a basket of greens said, "Tell the one about the eel, Bao." He started the eel story. The eel was already larger than anything an eel should be.
---
Shen Qing found Old Wei on the northern terraces.
A section of the wall had collapsed overnight. Old Wei was standing next to the pile of fallen stones, looking at it.
"I can help," Shen Qing said.
Old Wei looked at him. He looked at the stones. He nodded.
They worked. Old Wei picked up a stone, turned it in his hands, felt the weight and shape of it, and either set it in the wall or put it aside. Shen Qing lifted the heavier ones and placed them where Wei pointed.
They did not talk. They worked for an hour. The sun moved across the terraces. Wei's hands were cracked at the knuckles and stained with soil. He chose each stone by feel.
When they finished, Old Wei stepped back and looked at the wall. He ran his hand along the top row.
"Good work," he said.
He picked up his tools and went to the next section.
---
Yun Xiao was with Desheng at the north wall.
She had her hand on his throwing arm. She adjusted his wrist slightly. "Now," she said.
Desheng threw. The stone left his hand wrong. It hit the dirt ten feet away.
"Again," Yun Xiao said. She moved his fingers on the stone. "You're gripping too tight. Hold it here."
He threw again. The stone hit the wall and chipped it.
"Better. Now let a thread of qi run along your wrist when you throw. Like this." She picked up a stone and threw it. The stone crossed the field and cracked a boulder fifty yards out. The crack was loud.
Desheng stared at the boulder.
"Your turn," she said.
He threw. The stone hit the boulder. A chip fell off. His mouth opened. He looked at his hand. He looked at the boulder. He grinned and ran to find a bigger rock.
Yun Xiao sat on the wall and watched him throw.
---
Shen Qing was cleaning his sword on the step of the eastern house when Desheng found him.
The boy stood in front of him. His hands were dusty from the rocks.
"Can I learn to be a cultivator?"
Shen Qing looked at him. He set the sword down.
"Give me your hand."
Desheng put his hand out. Shen Qing placed two fingers on the boy's wrist and sent a pulse of qi through the meridian channels.
He felt for the aperture. He checked twice.
"You don't have cultivation potential," he said.
The boy's face went flat. He nodded. He turned and walked away.
Shen Qing picked up the sword and went back to cleaning it.
Twenty minutes later he heard the sound of rocks hitting the boulder. Louder than before.
---
Jiang He was sitting with Tao outside Tao's house.
Shen Qing passed and stopped. Jiang He was demonstrating a breathing pattern with his hands on his knees. "In through the nose for four counts. Hold for two. Out for six. The circulation feeds the lower abdomen."
Tao was listening. He sat the way people sit when they are concentrating. His hands copied Jiang He's position exactly.
"And this helps the baby?" Tao said.
"It helps the mother. Better circulation means better blood flow." Jiang He adjusted Tao's hand placement. "Every morning. Before she eats."
Tao repeated the instructions back. He asked three clarifying questions. He had Jiang He show him the hand placement again.
Mingzhu came out with two cups of water. She handed one to Jiang He and sat down next to Tao. Tao put his hand on her belly. She leaned against his shoulder.
Jiang He finished the lesson. He stood up and bowed slightly to both of them.
---
Evening.
Shen Qing stood at the window of the eastern house. The square was filling for dinner. Uncle Bao's voice carried across the stones. He was on the fish story again. The fish was the size of a small boat now.
Yun Xiao was sitting with the children near the well. She was showing them something with a pebble balanced on her finger.
Grandmother Liu was ladling stew. She gave extra portions to everyone who passed. She gave extra portions to Shen Qing's team.
From the north side came the sound of rocks hitting the boulder. Steady. One after another. Louder than they had been this morning.
Shen Qing watched the square. The delay report was filed. The senior team was coming in three days. He stood at the window and watched the village eat.