Frost still clung to the ridges, but the village stirred not in fear or sluggish resignation, but with a quiet, unfamiliar purpose.
They had work.
Real work—counted, measured, paid.
Not in promises, nor in scraps, but in credits that could buy food and goods in the mansion's care.
From the villager's eyes, it began with the sound of a low hum—MOI's presence easing into the main room of the mansion with her usual stillness. A pale shimmer unfolded above the table, steady and soft, like moonlight given a shape. The villagers gathered outside the open doorway, careful not to enter uninvited. They bowed their heads automatically, hands pressed to their chests.
MOI did nothing grand. She simply activated her projection, and a calm, clear voice filled the air:
"Displaying: Work Roles, Credit Rates, and Goods Available for Purchase."
To the villagers, it was revelation.
To MOI, it was an operational listing.
They fell to their knees anyway.
Auntie Qiao whispered behind her hand, "Celestial maiden speaks again…"
Little Sui clasped her fingers, eyes wide. A young man touched his forehead to the ground. Even Hu De—logical in other lives—held his ledger to his chest as if it needed shielding from too much divinity.
Xu Mingyue stood beside the projection, arms crossed loosely. He had long stopped trying to separate MOI from whatever heavenly image the villagers needed her to be. He had explained twice now:
"I am not an immortal. I am not Heaven-sent. I am only the manager of this place."
The villagers had nodded politely.
They believed none of it.
In their minds, a man could not summon a celestial maiden, nor live beneath a roof that appeared overnight, unless Heaven had placed both upon him. And Heaven did not choose lightly.
So they watched Mingyue with reverent distance, and watched MOI with reverent fear.
The projection brightened. Lists unfolded like scrolls in the air—neat, exact, legible to all.
WORK ROLES (Daily Rotation)
• Repair Assistants — 1 credit/hour
• Kitchen & Herb Sorting — 1 credit/hour
• Water Hauling & Purification Tasks — 1 credit/hour
• Runner Duties — 1 credit per full route
• Guard Rotation — 1.5 credits/hour
• Field Material Collection — 1 credit/hour
• Sorting Annex Duties — 1 credit/hour
• Ledger Support (for literate helpers) — 1.2 credits/hour
The villagers breathed in unison, as if Heaven itself had declared order in the valley.
Hu De stepped forward, bowing before the hovering script. "Administrator Xu," he murmured to Mingyue, "if Heaven wishes us to work under your household's record… I will keep track. I can write for the village."
Mingyue nodded. "Then come and sit."
He said it like an invitation. Hu De received it like an oath.
Chen Guo entered next with two boys trailing behind him, shoulders straightened in an attempt to look older than their years. "We are ready to begin repairs," he told the assembled crowd. "If your tools are broken, bring them. If they can be fixed, you will pay in credits."
The boys swallowed nervously. One murmured to the other, "If celestial maiden sees my work… will she bless it?"
MOI, hearing everything as she always did, answered with neutral clarity:
"Blessings are not within system capabilities. Verification of value enhancement is available."
The boys stared at her with awe. It didn't matter what she said—they heard what they needed. A goddess who refused blessings was merely a strict goddess.
Mingyue exhaled faintly.
He would correct this misunderstanding again, someday. Not today.
The projection shifted again.
AVAILABLE GOODS FOR PURCHASE (Credits Only)
Immediate-use items stocked locally by the mansion
• One meal portion (rice + herb broth) — 1 credit
• Basic cloth patch — 4 credits
• Needle & thread set — 8 credits
• Woolen scarf (coarse, winter grade) — 15 credits
• Oil lamp (manual, safe-burn) — 25 credits
• Rope length (5 li) — 10 credits
• Tool sharpening service — 1 credit
• Full tool repair — 2 credits
• Five-day rice sack — 20 credits
• Soap (herbal) — 6 credits
• Simple footwear (woven) — 12 credits
Every line hovered in the air with an elegance that villagers mistook for celestial care.
A hush fell over the crowd. The list shimmered, reflected in their eyes like distant stars.
Old Meng swallowed hard. "Administrator Xu… can… can a poor man truly earn enough for a scarf before winter?"
Mingyue met his gaze evenly. "If you work steadily, yes. Credits are not favors. They are wages every person here can earn."
The old man's throat tightened. He bowed deeply—not as a subordinate, but as someone acknowledging salvation that came coded in numbers.
Behind him, Auntie Qiao pressed a hand over her mouth. "To buy soap… with what I earn myself…" Her voice broke, a thin crack in the quiet.
MOI issued the next segment.
RULES OF EXCHANGE:
• Credits must be earned through documented labor.
• All credits are recorded by Hu De and verified by system log.
• Goods are non-refundable once taken.
• No person shall be denied work unless medically unsafe.
• Theft will be handled publicly and fairly.
• Children may earn half-credits where appropriate.
Even the last line felt like grace to the villagers. Children had always been mouths to feed, not hands that contributed. Now Little Sui's face lit with a resolve far too big for her narrow shoulders.
Mingyue observed quietly. He didn't bask in their reverence. He didn't lean into it. He simply stood steady, the way a pillar stands in a storm.
He stepped forward at last. "All of you, listen carefully. None of this is divine. The work you do is your own. The credits you earn are your own. I am not Heaven's messenger. I am only someone who can help build order."
A man in the back whispered, "Only immortals speak with such humility."
So nothing changed.
MOI dimmed her projection to a softer glow, signaling the announcement's end.
Then the real work began.
The villagers moved into their roles with a tension that softened into rhythm.
Auntie Qiao sorted herbs by the door, muttering recipes that carried the scent of survival.
Chen Guo tapped hammers against metal, the boys beside him learning the patience of a straight line.
Little Sui ran from house to house with notes, earning three credits before midday.
Two young guards patrolled lightly, spears in hand, learning to hold themselves like protectors rather than beggars.
People whispered among themselves:
"If this is not Heaven's arrangement, then it is Heaven's kindness through a man."
"Celestial maiden watches our work…"
"Even if he denies being an immortal, look at the house—how could any mortal call such a spirit?"
They worked not from fear, but from reverence.
From hope.
In the afternoon, a woman approached Mingyue with trembling hands, offering a battered cooking pot. "Administrator… will the house take this?"
He inspected it quietly. "If repaired, yes. Bring it to Chen Guo. If he can restore its shape, you will earn credits. Then we will appraise it."
Tears gathered at her lashes. Not because he offered wealth, but because he offered a system—one that counted her work the way the world had long refused to.
At dusk, MOI appeared again, this time to tally the day's credits. Her holographic presence illuminated the courtyard. Villagers bowed automatically.
"Credit issuance complete," she announced, her voice even. "Seven new workers. Total credits issued today: forty-two. Total MT accrued: minimal. System recommends establishing regular workflow."
Even her neutrality was received like scripture.
Mingyue listened, hands folded behind his back, gaze steady.
Li Yun approached him then, the day's labor still clinging to his shoulders like dust. "They're hopeful," he said quietly.
Mingyue nodded once. "Hope is stable only when structured." He looked toward the villagers, who now carried their small credit slips as if they were blessings carved onto thin wood. "Tomorrow, we teach them how to earn more."
Li Yun's answering smile was small, warm, and earnest. "With you leading, they'll follow."
The moon rose slow over the valley.
The mansion's lantern glowed like a quiet heart.
And the villagers—still half-believing they stood in the presence of immortality—fell asleep with something they had not carried in years:
the knowledge that tomorrow could be earned.
Not begged for.
Not stolen.
Earned.
And the house at the field's edge, with its steady steward and its celestial maiden of pale light, hummed in quiet agreement.