His plan is somewhat foiled when a young man strides up to him the moment he leaves his house.
The man is broad-shouldered, taller by several inches, and with black hair pulled up in a short tail. He looks about Lyan's age, maybe a few years older, not dressed or standing in any way different form others. Another well-meaning community member, then.
Because Lyan's mind has not told Cade who the heck this man is.
"Oh, hello-"
"My uncle says if I come with you, he'll tell my aunt."
"Uh… which are they?"
"Shek and Emerald."
Shek, married to Emerald, a low-level cultivator who married a woman fleeing her family that had taken refuge with him and proposed a week later. Emerald's land didn't have the same naming conventions, but she insisted that any children she bore would be named with Shek's culture.
Honestly? A beautiful love, even if Shek doesn't know what to do with his wife's unconditional love half the time. Loving parents and siblings just aren't the same as a loving spouse.
"Ah, one of Mister Shek's nephews. Uh, very well, I'm sure Missus Emerald would gossip when she goes to work. Shall we walk?"
The man nods, falling quiet without anything to say. Lyan shrugs, walking off towards the market. He'll either find a way to send the other off or find a way to sneak around without people insisting on helping him. Shek, the menace, sending his visiting nephew when the man has no family in miles. Shouldn't he be spending what little time they have together?
The walk feels longer with a silent presence at his side, one that doesn't even talk as Lyan greets others and stops to give children some pieces of honey he pulled out of his special pouch. He hasn't even learned the other's name!
He waits for the market to be in view before pulling off to the side and stopping out of the way.
The other man stops, looks everywhere but at Lyan to see why they're stopping, then finally turns and blinks at the expression.
A different face doesn't mean any less skilled at looking unimpressed.
"Hi, my name is Lyan Hollow. It's nice to meet you."
The man takes a few more moments to process the words.
"Hi? I'm Shek's nephew?" Lyan raises a brow slowly, and more tumbles out in a hurry. "Uh, Lenoiak, son of Tak, the youngest brother. It's nice to meet you, too, Miss Hollow."
Miss?
Right, he looks feminine. That, apparently, didn't change, either. At least as Cade, he just kept his hair short and wore baggy pants and shirts that showed exactly how small his chest was.
Lyan is, in this world, the exact sort of androgynous that results in too much confusion to counter properly. He's pretty sure he never does, and never will, with so many people willing to handle the truly troublesome assumptions for him.
So, he won't correct Lenoiak.
"May I call you Len? You may call me Lyan if you wish." He angles his tone to let the offer be soft, not pressuring. Some have their reasons to stay distant.
"Oh! Yes, you may, Mi- Lyan. Are we going to the market?" A plea to not be in the awkward conversation where Lyan probably seems as stern as all those missuses.
He snorts, covering his mouth with a hand in apology.
"Yes, yes, come along, Len. If you help me get some grains, I'll be able to acquire the more finicky things, and then you'll have something to say when Mister Shek asks if you actually helped or if I conned you."
"Conned me?"
"Len, did you really just come along because Mister Shek said so?"
"He's my uncle and he was worried you'd leave before I managed to get out."
"I might've. Well, if you believe in reincarnation, I was good enough I now am spoiled by half the village. They seem to think some tension in my chest now and then warrants it."
"Are heart conditions not dangerous?"
"My father's line always has it, and I've not suffered much from it, certainly no worrisome event. Mister Dyar accompanied me in selling yesterday, Mister Shek sent you today. I'm too comfortable in my habits to not be predicted." Lyan scans the upcoming market, trying to find an area he'd be able to sneak into to drop off items. He could try with Old Missus Rend. After all, a magic pouch isn't weird here, it's just prolly worth a lot.
Len lets the words sit for a moment, clearly not the talkative sort. Still, the man gets credit for trying.
"What do you do? My own job is exhausting, surely you aren't doing something as physical?"
"No, I weave. Physical, sure, but I can sit as I work, and weaving is always needed."
"That's good. I- My uncle seemed very sure you would stress yourself or some such."
"Yes, well, as I stated, the whole of them seem concerned I'll keel over if I carry a basket. I accept only some of it."
"Is that not impolite? If it's offered, shouldn't you accept?"
Right. Rules of exchange and obligation are different in this culture. The NPCs always insisted he take something if he gave something, and it was like having an argument just to say he wouldn't take a gift as a form of gratitude.
"No, not at all. I would rather gratitude be free, or is it really gratitude? In that case, is it rude to not accept what is offered, or is it a form of politeness, saying you view their assets as valuable as your own? I accept some, but only that which makes sense.
Most the sirs that come along use the excuse that some missus or other is concerned and nagging them to check on me. The children have the excuse of innocence. You have the excuse of being sent by your uncle and that your aunt will tell every mother and grandmother in the village that I've done something to nag me about."
"I see. That… If that's your way, then it is certainly not rude. Is your family the same?"
"Oh, indeed." Lyan's mind easily supplies the thoughts about how Lyar and Pya wouldn't take a single thing if the other party would suffer from the loss. Most notably, the large shouting match between Pya and Mera where neither woman would stand down that the other's husband needed some brown sugar more.
Dyar works as a field laborer, the sort that is hired by a company for a season. If Lyan's memory serves well, the current company has been paying the other immensely well for a good few years now, keen on keeping him forever, it seems. Dyar still makes a contract each year, but it is always advantageous, it seems.
They even have a large brick addition to their house, now. That was recent enough that Mera had shown it off when Lyan came over for food. Not to mention they offered to buy him some more plants for his garden, specifically a ginseng, trying to claim that it would be an investment to give them to him, as though he couldn't see right through them that they wanted him to try and grow ginseng cuttings to then have it on-hand for medicine.
It would've helped their case if they hadn't used it to follow trying to push some brown sugar and sticky rice on him moments prior.
"Well, if that's the case, what is it I'll be allowed to help with?"
"I need grains, specifically plenty of rice and millet. I've made a bit more than usual, so I'll be going to get some other things. Meet by the well, after."
With that, having entered the market, Lyan hands several stones into the other's hands and walks off.
Whatever ends up being bought, Lyan can deal with that just fine. He has his pouch, which can make up for this bit of time, and he'll prepare better next time.
Or maybe just talk to Shek about how the other shouldn't be sending relatives to keep Lyan company when he's feeling fine.
Village full of gossips, the whole of them. Even the children!